


A NEW MISSION

by FemailoftheSpecies



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:59:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FemailoftheSpecies/pseuds/FemailoftheSpecies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A disenchanted Sam Lawson shows up in Los Angeles and gets what he asked for, only he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Execution is Overrated

_It could have gone down so many ways._

_If he had never dared to show up at his sire’s offices, his existence might have remained as miserable and bleak for the next sixty years as it had been for the previous three score._

_If that stake had been driven home, there would have been a sense of completion, but a demon unfulfilled was a demon wasted._

_As it turned out, it went more like this…_

 

“You really want it to end this way?” Angel asked, determination masking something more complex and bothersome beneath the surface.

At this point Lawson felt more stupid and weak than anything else, but false bravado and a sense of not backing down before this demon, made him stick to his guns and ask for something he was beginning to realize he did not want.

“Sounds like a plan,” he panted, breathing in the scent that had been emblazoned in his demonic blueprint ages ago.

Just being near family again gave him renewed hope that this shitbox of an unlife could make a drastic turn for the better. It didn’t matter that the one he had needed for more than half a century was holding the makeshift stake dangerously close to his heart, readying to dust him. He was finally home. So the next words out his mouth were more for posturing than anything else, but he just didn’t have it in him to change the outcome now that he wanted to.

“Come on, chief. Give me a mission.”

Angel pulled his other hand back, grimfaced, distaste with what he was about to do apparent, but just as trapped as Lawson by the role he was forced to play. 

A punch, solid and suckerish, knocked Angel into the wall, the stake clattering to the floor. He pushed off, glaring at the blond vampire who was staring at the youngest demon.

“Lawson.” He shook his head. “They’ll let anyone in here.”

“What the hell are you doing, Spike?” Angel spat.

Spike positioned himself between the bulky form of Angel and a now much more docile Lawson. “You get your jollies from offing your gets, is that it?” 

“He threatened my people,” Angel replied, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder. Spike peeked in that direction, but didn’t move. 

“Well, looks like employee incentives are at a new low.”

“Spike, get out of my way,” Angel snarled, lunging at the blond who sidestepped him, matador to Angel’s charging bull, while managing to keep Lawson out of reach as well.

“You’d do better getting them down,” he inclined his head toward the three perched precariously behind his grandsire. “Before someone slips.” He sounded full of impudence and snark - old habit, and all - but concern was there as well, open to anyone looking.

Angel deflated some, a visible thing as his shoulders sagged just a hint. He really did need to free them. With his luck a 6.0 magnitude earthquake would hit Los Angeles at that very moment, decapitating all three of his friends while he wasted time arguing with the irritant. Resolved that, for whatever reason, Spike was intervening on Lawson’s behalf, Angel nodded toward the vampire in question. “What about him?”

Spike clamped his hand around the back of Lawson’s neck, squeezing tightly while the younger vampire scrunched downward until driven to one knee to avoid the majority of the pain. “I’ve got your pup. Go be the bloody hero.” 

Taking in the scene around him, Spike was impressed by this one’s ingenuity. He’d somehow gotten the drop on Angel’s lieutenants which was interesting. Making the brooding one dance to a tune other than his own slow waltz was always fun, but there were lines. Lawson crossed them, but so had he … often.

Whatever had happened, the why of it, Lawson had some explaining to do. Watching the tense line of his back as Angel freed his friends, Spike was sure he did not want to be in the younger demon’s shoes.

“Thanks,” Lawson muttered begrudgingly. Spike had eased up on the pressure once it was apparent that the vamp wasn’t going to bolt. He didn’t think his reluctant gratitude was for that.

Swinging his head around, Spike pinned the sailor with cold blue eyes and smiled. “Oh, I didn’t do you any favors.”

 

~~~*~~~

Down the corridor from Harmony’s desk was a small conference room. Unlike the one adjacent to Angel’s office, this room had no windows, no chairs, nothing at all, but fluorescent lighting up top, and a cold, sloped cement floor with a large drain in the center. 

Since Angel began his tenure as CEO of Wolfram and Hart, this room was where he had engaged in executing employees that went against him in a blatant fashion. Only Spike had been inside this room and lived another day and he wasn’t talking about it.

Now Lawson held that dubious pleasure. Not that he was conscious to appreciate it.

Something about family, Spike supposed as he stared down at the mess of preternatural flesh heaped on the floor.

“Take him to medical,” Angel ordered flatly, cleaning the blood, what he hadn’t licked away already, from his hands with a warm wet towel. “Have them patch him up then bring him upstairs when he can talk again.”

Thinking that this was all a bit too Angelus-y for Spike’s taste, the blond spoke up.

“Not feeling too happy, old man? That fickle soul of yours is still intact, right?”

A wry laugh was the only answer Spike received before Angel opened the door and strolled out, leaving grandchilde and childe alone in the bright gloom. 

More bones were broken than not and Spike didn’t like carrying someone so … wrongly mutable. He left the room as well, closing the door till just cracked and came upon Harmony. 

“Need medical to come up with a stretcher,” he told her and she stared wide-eyed past him at the semi-closed door.

“So, he didn’t behead him?” Spike shook his head, his gaze stuck as her breast jiggled nicely. “Darn. Fred wins,” she pouted.

He frowned at this. “You all bet on what the brood master was going to do?”

“Uh huh.” She started counting off the ways on her fingers. “I said he was going to chop his head off, Wesley voted for fire, Gunn said stake and Fred guessed that he was going to beat him down and then feel bad about it. So she wins.”

“Wait, you all had a wager going and no one let me in on the action.” He pressed a pale hand to his chest. “I’m hurt.”

A moan filtered from the room behind him and Harmony’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “I think he’s hurting a little more.”

Spike sighed. “Right. Call medical, Harm.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

“Okay. Why?”

Empty handed, Spike had found his way to the penthouse and Angel’s bar after leaving medical. Lawson’s recovery was going to take a while. The vampire was sprawled out on his sofa, head back, eyes closed, waiting for Spike to answer his succinct question.

“Why what, Pouf?” Playing dumb was one of the things, and there were many, that Spike excelled at.

“I was going to stake him. Why’d you stop me?”

Settling in the sofa, Spike exhaled through his nose, suddenly tired and seeming more like his age than usual.

“He’s not a bad one. I had to teach him to kill, but he never enjoyed it. He’s controllable. Useful. And family,” he added craning his neck to sneak a look at Angel. “Don’t have much of that left.”

_Thanks to you_ was left hanging between them, the pink elephant that it was.

Angel gave him a questioning glance and Spike leaned over and scooped up the warmed mug of blood, downing it before his grandsire had a chance to think about snatching it back, conversation neatly diverted. Angel was too tired anyway, torturing offspring didn’t hold the appeal it once had.

“Gotta go.” Spike stood, patting his jean pocket for the keys to the Firebird that he’d lifted from Angel’s office while he was busy beating Lawson into the ground.

“Where are you off to?”

“Promised Fred I’d help her pick out something suitably British for Wesley.”

Angel sat up for that. “Fred and Wesley?”

Spike waggled his eyebrows and made his escape before Angel noticed his wallet was missing.

 

~~~*~~~

The elevator doors parted and Wesley stepped out, calling for his boss. The scent of the man drifted to Angel, smelling faintly of Fred, which he hadn’t noticed before. He picked up on it now because he was looking for it, but mostly he smelled freshly showered.

And full of tamped down anger. 

“Angel, are you here?” he inquired again, taking a tentative step further in the vampire’s private quarters. He was always aware that no matter how Angel got along during the day, this was a lair and the watcher in him understood that upon entering there were inherent dangers.

Of course, he appeared to materialize from the shadows to the left of Wesley and the man started, reaching to push up glasses that were no longer there, a cover. “Oh, Angel, good. I’d thought I might have missed you somehow.” He glanced around the dark room. “I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“It’s okay, Wes. I’m in for the night.” 

“Ah, very well,” Wesley nodded as he followed Angel to the kitchen and got to the point of his visit. “I understand that the vampire is in medical. The vampire that tried to *kill* Fred, Gunn and myself.”

Angel expected this conversation, but had held hopes of putting it off until the next morning, or afternoon if he was allowed to sleep in like he planned.

“He’s in one of the holding cells, Wes. He won’t get free.”

“You’re being deliberately obtuse, Angel. His accommodations don’t concern me. The fact that you have a soulless member of your family, your own creation, under your roof, does concern me.” He searched Angel’s eyes for understanding, but was met by that annoyingly fathomless gaze. “Greatly.” Sighing, Wesley leaned against the counter and ran his hand down over his face before crossing his arms. “What can you possibly be thinking?”

He’d said what he wanted, which was sometimes difficult when dealing with Angel and his odd moods. Behind the souled front was a wild beast, so very far from untamed like the others wanted to believe, and Wesley appreciated the balancing act the vampire pulled off on a daily basis. Yet he was determined to speak his mind.

“It was Spike’s call,” Angel tried to shift the blame elsewhere and blaming Spike was fun. The ding of the microwave saved him from saying more, but Wesley was already amazed enough.

“Since when do you cater to Spike?” he asked, incredulous that Angel thought he would buy such a blatant lie.

Shrugging, he took a sip and gazed over the top of his mug, eyes penetrating Wesley’s. “I’ve been catering to Spike for a century.”

Another lie, in a way, or maybe not, but the best lies were always steeped in truth.

“Say this _is_ to…appease Spike. What do you plan to allow him to do with this creature? He can’t be controlled in his soulless state and last I heard we aren’t dishing out spare souls at the door.”

Angel enjoyed it when Wesley got like this, all sarcasm disguised as intellect. But to the point, he was inclined to agree with his droll assessment and went to say as much when, “Spike says he can,” popped out of his stunned mouth. He frowned, suspecting the blond of some sort of mind control magic. 

“Spike says what? That _he_ can control him, or that the vampire can be controlled? And how would Spike know?” 

It dawned on him that between freeing his friends, and beating the evil out of Sam, theoretically, he hadn’t filled any of them in on exactly what went down or how Spike knew the fledgling from his rising night. A bigger picture was forming in the vampire’s mind, as a few puzzle pieces slid into place. “Good question,” he lied. “I’ll ask him tomorrow.” 

With that he downed the rest of his blood and turned his back to Wesley to wash the dish.

It was as effective a dismissal as any.

 

~~~*~~~

 

During his stint as a pet vampire to a bunch of spotty Sunnydale youths, Spike had reluctantly been dragged along by Giles to a shop in Los Angeles that specialized in European food imports. After discovering a mutual love for many items, the two Brits found a bit of solidarity in their shared homeland. On more than one occasion, the watcher had invited Spike over to enjoy some of what they considered the finer things in life. 

Spike took Fred there now, advising her on what items were really good and what was mostly for show. In the end, she came away with a large quantity of snacks and teas that Spike was certain the other Brit would appreciate. And he charged it all to Angel’s card, which Fred appreciated. 

After dropping her off at her apartment, he doubled back to Wolfram and Hart instead of his own apartment and parked Angel’s car back in the same space. Chances were he’d never even know that Spike had knicked the vehicle which made the gesture pointless really. 

Taking the elevator, he exited on the 7th floor where the medical station was located, all the while concocting a way to get Angel to notice his thievery.

A young nurse, Amanda Payne, was just coming on duty and sat at the entrance. The blond gave her a smile. She had been very attentive to him while he was recovering from his surgery - blowjobs being therapeutic and all - and he’d been dropping in to say hello most days since.

“Hey Spike. What’s up?”

He sauntered over to the desk and leaned, peering over it at her. “How’s my pretty candy striper?”

She laughed. “First off, twenty-five is too old to be a candy striper. Second, I *have* to be paid to hang around this place. And third, what century are you from? You’re really telling your age.”

“Been alive to see three centuries, or unalive as it were. And since I don’t look my age, I should at least act it, right?”

Shaking her head, she giggled softly. “Like you do that either,” she retorted, her expression turning serious. “Say, are you here to see that vampire Mr. Angel had locked up?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, pet.”

She glanced around like someone else might overhear. “He called down right after I came on duty and left orders to keep him isolated. I don’t wanna loose my job.”

“Oh, piffle.” He waved his hand. “The big oaf is in his penthouse, busy working up a marathon brood. He won’t have a clue. Besides, I brought him in.”

She picked up the admission chart and raised an eyebrow. “Oh. So you did. Well go on back, but I’m denying everything if HE gets mad.”

“Ta, pet.” He strolled away walking backwards before giving Amanda a mock salute and spinning around. 

The medical wing of Wolfram and Hart was not particularly large, but what it lacked in size, it more that made up for in technology. Spike flexed his fingers, feeling an affinity for this centuries advances that he’d lost while a victim of it in Sunnydale. With only 12 rooms, Spike’s trek was a short one. He pushed open the door marked 5 and closed it behind him. 

Inside was a bed which was surrounded by a steel cage, bars thick enough to keep Angel contained, if needed.

Lawson was staring at him with one wide eye, the other swollen, purplish and shut. His jaw was wired shut as well.

“Hello Sam.”

He muffled something that Spike took for a greeting. The blond held up his hand.

“Don’t bother. Can’t understand you, not gonna try. Just here to tell you a few things about your current situation. So put your listening cap on.”

Lawson sagged into the mattress and closed his good eye, maybe finally getting that staking was not in his immediate future and Spike took the chair next to the bed for his own.

“See, Angel’s the forgiving type.” Off the vampire’s disagreeing grunt, Spike waved his hand. “Now I know he got a little fist happy upstairs, but that was just Da being Da. He doesn’t take to anyone fucking with what’s his. Not even me and I’m his darling boy,” he laughed.

“So if you behave, follow the rules, and there’s a hellhole full of them believe me, he’ll keep from staking you.”

Lawson seemed to let this sink in before sighing, resigned that whatever his fate, he was in no position to argue at the moment.

“Now, I’m not so forgiving.” Spike leaned over, getting right in Sam’s face, and spoke softly. “If you ever lay a hand on Fred, I will skin you alive, dredge your carcas in salt and rinse you in holy water…repeat as needed. Are. We. Clear?”

The nod came swiftly accompanied by a muffled “Yes.”

He sat back in his seat. “Good. I like to cover the basics first, so there are no misunderstandings. Now…” He pressed the call button. “Let’s see about getting you all fixed up.”


	2. The Scheme of Things

Vampire healing was what it was. Most of the broken bones were mended and Lawson’s jaw was working well enough by the next afternoon, so the wires were removed and he was released into Spike’s custody. 

A meeting with a tribe of Vangara demons had gone on for eight hours, leaving Angel and crew drained and irritable. Not much had been resolved - the Vangaras still intended to practice their mating ritual blood sacrifice as scheduled, and Angel still intended to disrupt them with a blade through their necks. It was a standoff for which no one saw any way out, violence aside.

“Wes, I need a way to stop them.”

Wesley gave Angel a long-suffering look that reminded the vampire of Giles, so he figured it must be a watcher thing, or perhaps a British thing, considering some of the glares he got from Spike. “I have everyone I can spare checking all avenues, Angel. We’ll find a way.”

Angel nodded, glancing around the lobby, distracted, his skin itching and feeling too tight.

“Is there something wrong?” Wesley asked.

A lot, Angel thought, but just shook his head. Upstairs, he sensed, was family. That was always going to be wrong. And dangerous. 

“I’m fine, Wes. Just…find something. I don’t want to have to wipe out the entire clan.”

But he would. They were clients of the firm, or had been until Angel severed the relationship three weeks ago. The attempted abduction of five young girls for their ritual put an end to what Eve had smugly described as a centuries-long connection.

“…are you all right?” Wesley asked, politely concerned. He was mostly politely everything these days.

“What? I’m sorry, Wes, my…I’m just tired.” 

It was after eight in the evening and Angel had been up all day and half the previous night, so it was true that he longed to stretch out in his bed. 

“Why don’t you go on up and I’ll ring you when I find something?”

“I think I will.” He was going up anyway, but let Wesley take the credit. “Thanks Wes.”

They parted ways and Angel watched until the door closed behind his friend before heading up to the penthouse. 

Spike was sitting on his sofa, booted feet on the coffee table, television blaring, when the elevator doors slid apart. Angel got a bead on the other one quickly.

He strolled across the room and stopped at the wall of windows, gazing out at the starry lights. “What’s he doing?” he asked softly, knowing he did not need to talk over the noise emitting from the television to be heard.

Not bothering to look up, Spike replied just as quietly, “Taking a bath in that lake you call a tub.” 

Now that he tried, the scents of warm water and fresh soap were in the air. Angel relaxed fractionally. There was no way out from his bedroom except for an emergency passage on the south wall of his bedroom, and a password along with a drop of his blood was needed for that.

“You wanna tell me why now?” Getting to the point was crucial. He and Spike didn’t do the small talk well. Whether it was Angel’s dislike of Spike’s biting sense of humor, or if it had more to do with Spike coddling his grudges like he coddled Drusilla, they were incapable of conversing about things that didn’t matter for any length of time before the arguments erupted. When things were of real substance, the bickering started immediately, leaving no avenue for resolution, all ways being blocked by anger and resentment. It was all very cycled and Angel was particularly tired of the repetition.

When no answer came from the couch, Angel sighed and turned away from the view to take in another. Looking at Spike, actually seeing him, instead of doing his best to stare through him, was always trying for the older demon. This animated reminder of all he’d done, all he’d been, good and bad, was sometimes painful, always alluring.

“Look, you’re asking a lot from me and giving nothing.” He was standing over him now, just off to the side and not obstructing the blond’s view because that was a whole new level of antagonism and diversion that Angel did not need. “It’s not too late for me to stake him, Spike,” he warned, like advising a kid that the stove is hot.

“Just let him go, Angel. Like you’d let Dru go. He’s no worse than she is.”

Studying the vampire, Angel wanted desperately to sort out what was happening here. Spike was pleading for the life of a soulless vampire, in his own do-what-I-say way, but there was concern; offhanded, backwards, warped concern, but concern nonetheless.

“Why do you care? What happened?”

Blue eyes lifted from the television and settled on Angel’s and they locked for a few seconds, until Spike shifted his gaze to the side, getting a glimpse of the night skyline. 

“You threw him away, like you did me and Dru. Why can’t you just let it be, Angel? He won’t cause you more trouble. I’ve warned him off and he’ll mind.”

Angel shook his head, not understanding, not wanting to. “Warned him off?” This was old vampire shit, Angel was rusty but not completely out of practice or ignorant. “What happened when you got off the sub, Spike?”

“Sod off, you poncy sack of--”

Snatching Spike up from the couch, Angel pulled him to his feet by his collar and yelled in his face. “Tell me what you did, Spike!”

A well-timed knee to the groin garnered Spike’s speedy release and he scrambled to the other side of the penthouse, as far away from Angel as possible. “Keep your meaty paws off me, Peaches.” 

He was trying hard to be reasonable, had promised Fred as much and liked to keep his word, especially to someone who had done him more kindness than anyone else, with no motive at all except that it was in her to do it. Angel made it near impossible to maintain a rational frame of mind.

“You two should kiss and get it over with.”

Lawson stood under the archway leading to Angel’s bedroom, wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a t-shirt that he found in his sire’s dresser. His own clothes had been taken for cleaning and had yet to be returned.

“Sam,” Angel greeted, his mind off of Spike and his indomitable obstinacy for the moment.

“Angel.” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited a few beats before adding. “And that’s Spike. Now that we all know each other's names,” his head tilted to the right. “Let’s measure dicks, chief. Just for fun, of course, because we all know who’s got the big--”

“Sam!” Spike bellowed and the vampire’s mouth clacked shut. “Unless you enjoy sucking pig’s swill though a straw, I suggest you don’t rile up Daddy Dearest here.”

Rolling his eyes at this new nomenclature, Angel stepped up to Spike because he was the one that needed to justify why he wanted the other vampire spared.

“It’s not how it was, Spike,” he whispered close to cropped blond hair, unable to resist breathing him in while that close. “Just give me a reason. Make me understand.” He thought he understood with a sublime perfection, but it was better to hear it firsthand and not gain conclusion from his own mental images.

A long silence followed. Sam was quiet too, knowing that his life was hanging in the balance between these two demons. He didn’t get the sense that Angel was very keen on the idea of it anymore, but just working on autopilot. But Angel did lots of things that he didn’t want to do as a matter of suffering if nothing else, and although he had been somewhat suicidal a day previous, now Sam had more value in himself and wanted to explore this new future that Spike was offering, via their creator.

“We made it to land with time to spare, but not much,” Spike began, drawing all ears and eyes to him. “Fleeing the dawn was no way to spend his first night as a vampire, but what was done was done. I needed to get back to Spain to find Drusilla, and there was your boy, all freshly dead and looking like I’d felt before."

__

_Angelus had lied. That in and of itself was nothing shocking to Spike, but it had still been irritating to have fallen for it…again._

_The shores of Nova Scotia had been a little more like fifty miles from where he’d been unceremoniously dumped into the Atlantic. Warm weather coast that it was, that did not necessarily extend to deeper waters and by the time he reached Port Hawksbury, he was chilled to his vampiric bones._

_And he also had company._

__

“We were in Canada of all places. Not so bad as far as the war was concerned, but an ocean away from Drusilla, and me with no papers. Lawson just sort of tagged along at first, lost as a pup, really.” He stared at Angel now. “You really are good at leaving your gets, Peaches, for me to do the clean up.”

“Look, this trip down memory lane is…inspiring really,” Sam cut Spike off. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’ll be shipping out.” His little speech would have been more effective had he been wearing shoes.

Eyebrow raised, Spike craned his neck to look at the vampire behind him. “And where would you be going, then?”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Angel inserted quickly. Staking him was still the right thing to do, Angel was sure of it, but he really didn’t want to hear Spike’s mouth for the next ten years. An idea was forming, though, and he started talking before he was sure of what he was doing. “What he *will* be doing is training, daily with you…” he poked Spike in the chest. “I’ve got a job for you both.”

The situation with the Vangaras was looking up.

 

~~~*~~~

 

Spike was unaccustomed to rising early. During his Sunnydale crypt days, he was left alone until sunset when Buffy or one her acolytes more than likely came for him, needing his help in one way or the other. When he was the basement dweller of Revello Drive, the children were more inclined to let him sleep all day. He was sure many of the potentials believed he had a coffin down there as well.

The point being, Spike was as late a rise as there was, and Harmony ringing him at seven in the morning was tantamount to blasphemy in his book. He rose anyway, but took his time getting ready, mostly because he was incapable of doing exactly as Angel demanded.

When he arrived forty-five minutes late for the meeting that he didn’t recall consenting to attend, Wesley was looked pinched about the face. Gunn was put out, needing to be elsewhere, but that was normal, and Fred was driving forward, educating her captive audience on the comparative benefits of wave-particle duality when used as a conduit for mystically locating dimensional portals. 

Of course, no one understood more than every other word, but Wesley was as attentive as he could manage, more interested in the way her mouth moved than the words coming out. Angel was watching her as well, his eyes dark and unreadable to most, but to Spike he was either approaching a self-induced vampiric coma or thinking about how much quieter she would be if he tore out her throat, hard to tell.

Lawson was notably absent.

It took a moment for his presence to register on Angel’s radar, but when it did those fathomless eyes became much more animated and the others caught on, looking to the doorway where the blond lurked.

“Oh, hi Spike,” Fred greeted in her usual warm way. Nothing about her that he didn’t like. “You’re just in time. I’m getting to the good part. Sit down.”

Unable to tell her no, he obliged without making a fuss and listened as she wrapped up her conclusions and got to the part where she hit Angel up for an increase in her department’s budget. By then, her boss was mentally leaking and nodded, letting his head fall back, gratitude that she was done making him willing to consent to anything.

“Gee! Thanks Angel,” she beamed, gathering her notes and diagrams, readying to skedaddle before he realized what he’d done. “I’ll just go get started on completing the design…” She was gone before anyone could reply.

Wesley blinked, the trance broken with the absence of its object, focusing on the blond.

“Spike. Angel’s informed us that you’ll be training the vampire, Sam,” he stressed the name as if trying to adjust to the notion of him as an individual. “And if you say, I suppose he can be useful to some degree, but I’m curious about why you even bother.”

“Look, Percy. Angel’s the one you need to be asking. I’m just the help.” Turning to the other vampire, he pitched his voice low. “Where is he?”

“Locked in a holding cell. You ready to get started?”

Spike nodded and Angel dialed security, ignoring Wesley’s curious gaze.

 

~~~*~~~

 

Training, on this first day, consisted of Spike beating the crap out of Lawson, his second ass whipping that week, until the younger vampire submitted to him. Pecking order had to be established, and Spike did not want the boy getting any ideas just because Sam was theoretically on the same level as his own true sire. 

Sam yielded well enough and was now feeling fledge-like and more eager to please than he enjoyed, but it was necessary. Obedience, unconditional and immediate, was expected. Without a soul, there was no other measure of control.

“I won’t be like you,” he informed Spike the next morning. All healed up - because Spike had been making a point, not being a brute - he was vaguely aware of his new position. Sixty years old, and now dependant on this wild vampire again for his own survival. It made him angry, and then strangely worried that his anger would make Spike angry, which he wanted to avoid.

Spike tossed him a sword. “No one’s like me,” he groused out, then more clearly, “You ever use one of those before?”

Sam indicated that he hadn’t and Spike began with the basics.

The day passed amiably enough, them stopping around one in the afternoon when Harmony brought in blood, the otter mix, which Sam refused so Spike downed both meals.

Fred stopped by, curious about this member of the Aurelian clan that had threatened her life, but seemed so perfectly harmless now. She chatted with him, speaking of a grandfather who had served in World War II as well.

Sam was receptive to her attempts at conversation and appeared almost apologetic for his actions days before. He stopped short of actually saying it because he _had_ wanted to hurt her and that wasn’t a completely negated feeling. He just considered talking to her more enjoyable than eating her, for the moment.

Well aware of how the demon prevaricated, Spike kept a close vigil until she left, work claiming her attention once again.

“Fred,” Lawson started, still staring at the door like her image was burned there. “She’s interesting.”

Spike was putting away the mats, calling it a day. Eyebrow lifted, he paused in the process. “She’s off limits.”

Lawson turned his attention to Spike. “I didn’t smell you on her.” It was a statement, but a question as well, and he waited for confirmation or contradiction.

Spike gave neither. “Holy water doesn’t have to kill, Sam. Leave it be.”

Duly cautioned, the vampire nodded. “I don’t want to go back to Angel’s place. It’s boring.”

Spike could understand that, but didn’t want to be saddled with a babysitting job, no more than what he already was. “Sorry, Sam. Shower and I’ll take you up. Daddy’s orders.”

“So all that talk, back in the day, was just a load of malarkey?”

“What?”

“You know, how you always talked about sticking it to Angelus and being your own vamp. It was just you talking, playing the role.”

Spike smiled. “I’m not falling for it, Sam.”

The brunette shrugged. “Hoped you would.”

A blur of motion and the vampire was on the other side of the training room, weapon in hand. He charged Spike, his real face emerging with a snarl. Painfully evident that today’s lesson had not sunk in, Spike quickly disarmed him, the blade inadvertently slicing deeply into Sam’s side. He crumpled immediately, groaning with pain.

“Fuck,” Spike muttered as blood, too much, oozed from Sam. He laid him on a mat and tore his shirt away to better see the wound. It was a gash about four inches in length and by the amount of blood on the blade Spike estimated that it went about 6 inches deep. His fist would fit. “Fuck.”

Angel hadn’t said to gut him. But then again, he hadn’t said not to either, so the blond shook it off and smacked his younger on the cheek.

“Hurts?”

“What do you think, chief?” he managed between clenched teeth coated with blood. 

Spike was hovering over him and pressed a hand to the wound, harder than needed, watching Sam intently until he squirmed and moaned for him to stop.

“Hurts?” he asked again.

Silent while the demon processed what was happening, Sam nodded then grunted out, “Yes.”

“Good boy.” Shifting to Sam’s side, Spike extended his arm, waving his wrist in front of the other vampire. Sam froze and Spike sighed. “Don’t fancy carting you down to medical again or hearing Angel bitch about it. Drink.”

He wasn’t going to tell him twice, and the younger demon knew it. Hands slick with blood clamped onto Spike’s arm, their grip strong, and ridges appeared as human features melted away. Fangs slid in and Spike hissed, his eyes closing.

Half a century fell away, and they were back there, in Nova Scotia, Spike feeding a newly abandoned Sam Lawson because when he killed, he got nothing out of it. After a moment, Spike pulled back, forcing him to retract his long incisors.

Lawson collapsed onto the mat again, this time sated, licking the blood of family from his lips. “Fuck,” he panted.

Cradling his wrist to his chest, Spike rolled onto his back. “Not likely,” he mumbled and patted his pockets for cigarettes. Damn, he was out.

Lawson leaned up and rested on his elbows, his serious gazed locked on the blond. “Why not?”

That made Spike laugh. “Angel likes to keep his toys to himself. Took me a century to learn that but I did.”

“I’m *not* his toy.” 

Spike sat up and checked on the gash again. It was nearly closed but not quite. “Maybe not. But you’re his get, he made you, and I *like* my bits just where they are.”

“But in Canada …”

Spike cut him off. “In Canada , Angelus was conspicuously absent.”

“And now he’s here and wants me dead. Why do I have to abide by some dumb rule?”

Instead of answering, Spike flipped to his feet, showing off, and reached for Sam’s hand, eyebrow raised. “Best get you back.” Sam took the help and got his legs under him with just a little effort, the pain in his abdomen more like a dull thud thanks to Spike’s blood. 

“I’m still not keen on seeing him,” Sam complained and Spike was well aware that the boy was preaching to the choir.


	3. Plans

The next few days passed without event. Spike rose daily at the unholy hour of 8:00am in order to travel via sewer access to Wolfram & Hart to meet up with Sam for training by nine. By noon he was cranky and tossing the younger vampire around like a rag doll to make his point. Angel intervened on the third day.

“Stop.”

Sam, bruised and limping, glared at Spike from behind the wall of Angel, feeling that protection that only his true sire could invoke wash over him. He liked Spike, not so much when he was tearing into him without cause, but Angel made him. Nothing compared to it. Spike had long since realized that and didn’t make the effort.

But he was belligerent enough to act innocent. “Stop what?” He frowned at Angel, confusion slipping slyly into his eyes as his arms dangled loosely at his sides.

Not entirely stupid in the ways of Spike, Angel geared up for a fight, not really sure why it was going to happen, only that it was inevitable. Sun was going to set at 6:46pm today and Spike was going to hit him before that. 

Inevitable.

“Sam’s not your personal punching bag, Spike. If you’ve got a problem, take it out on someone…” he stepped closer to the vampire and looked down his slant nose at him, “your own size.” He was smirking, couldn’t be helped really, counterproductive as it was. Luckily, this was the very place for two demons of immense power to get their aggressions out.

Spike’s eyes widened, disbelief that the big Irish lout left him such an opening. He was almost too stunned to take it.

Almost.

“What? Not you, nothing around here’s your size, except maybe that wooly mammoth on display at the Museum.” He poked a hard finger in Angel’s belly, smiling at the slight give that wasn’t there four years ago.

Thrilled and terrified, Sam had slipped out of the way, leaning against the wall. He was smart enough to know this had nothing to do with him and too much to do with a passionate past that neither seemed willing to acknowledge or indulge. It was confusing, but in his new world most things were. The demon was unhappy about that, craving simplicity, but not enough to make a fuss about it yet. For now, the entertainment value of watching the other vampires was an amiable trade off.

Nostrils flared, Angel refused to hit him. Oh, as soon as Spike swung, he was going to methodically beat his scrawny ass into submission like he hadn’t been beaten in a while, but the older demon wanted the higher moral ground; he wanted to play victim to Spike’s aggressor. Leaning down a little, he grazed Spike’s ear, whispering…

“Dru liked it.”

Hands fisted into small cannon balls, Spike stiffened and so did Sam, waiting for the blows and swearing that were sure to come. He’d heard enough griping about that triangle to know it was a sore subject for both Angel and Spike. 

Instead, Spike’s fists uncurled and his hands roamed up Angel’s torso, caressing as he spoke. “Buffy didn’t. Said you were all big and smothering and sweaty. Said she liked how I fucked her much ---”

Cutting off his litany of porn, the punches to Spike’s gut, and then his jaw and temple were timed perfectly with Wesley’s unexpected entrance. He slumped to the floor, deciding to feign injury.

“Ah, Angel. Harmony told me…” Wesley trailed off, taking in the scene with a discontent frown. Sam was bruised, looking frightened and frightfully human at that, while Angel hovered over an obviously abused blond vampire. “What are you up to now, Angel?” he asked, and glanced at his watch to confirm that yes, it was only 9:45 in the morning. “Vampires really should be asleep this time of day,” he proclaimed as if that was the solution to the problem.

Spike readily agreed as he got up from the floor. “Ah ha!” He pointed at Angel. “Just what I’ve been saying. Wes, you’re not an utter git after all.”

Wesley pursed his lips and inhaled deeply, summoning patience. “Somehow, I remain not flattered.” He pieced Spike with his gaze before fixing it on his boss. “Now, Angel, would you like to tell me why you’re picking on Spike and Sam instead of preparing for the meeting? You must perform the Mect le’t Ta before noon or the Vangara won’t consider sitting down with you again.”

“Screw the Vangaras, Wes,” Angel sighed, tossing his hands in the air. “They eat virgins.” That was explanation enough.

“So did you,” Spike chimed, apparently feeling much better. Angel stared at him, eyes darkening neatly, and Spike swallowed hard. “Uh, and so did I, once upon a time.” He clapped once loudly. “Right. All water under the bridge now. Come on, Lawson.” He slipped past Wesley almost too fast for the human to see, Sam a trailing blur behind him. And then Angel and Wesley stood alone.

“Spike seemed rather unconcerned about the Vangara, Angel.” Wesley was suspicious and Angel was suddenly interested in his shoes. “Did you even ask them?”

Shrugging, Angel hedged. “Ask is such a relative word.”

“Angel…” 

“Okay, okay. I’ll tell them tonight.” He was hoping to avoid this. If the meeting went well, he could forget about his back-up plan, and never have to deal with Spike’s reaction to it or his own. That was the reason for his silence thus far; he wasn’t actually afraid or anything.

“Hmm, be sure to. Fred is working on something; she won’t tell me what exactly, but she thinks it will be helpful. She’s even put her dimensional research on the back burner for this.”

“Okay…fine. I’ll tell them tonight.” Because sires did not ask.

 

~~~*~~~

The Mect le’t Ta didn’t help. Angel was still relentless in his stance regarding the Vangara mating, uninfluenced by the ceremonial dance that he had to perform earlier that day, and the demons in question still insisted that they would not be deterred. With a frown on his face, making his brows look like one long bushy line, Angel dialed Spike’s cell phone and told him to bring Lawson to his penthouse in one hour. He hung up before the blond could balk at being ordered around.

Checking with Harmony, he had her cancel or postpone his appointments for the next day, and headed up with enough time to shower and get dressed before the whir of the elevator in motion got his attention.

The doors opened, and his family, such as it was, stepped out in unison, Spike ultimately assured in his status as favored even though they pretended such things didn’t exist. Sam was more subdued, but the underlying Aurelian arrogance was there too, just waiting to be nurtured.

“You bellowed, Igor,” Spike greeted, smiling slightly when Sam snickered and veered to the left for Angel’s bar. He made two drinks, carrying Spike’s to him, while they both stared out of the window at the setting sun.

Ignoring the jibe, Angel eyed them, arms crossed as he leaned in the doorway to his bedroom, wondering what they’d been doing, becoming so chummy over the last few days. Spike had certainly beaten Sam enough for the vampire to hold a grudge, yet they seemed …casual in each other's company. Feeling suddenly cross, Angel pushed off with his shoulder and came up behind them.

“I have a job for you.”

Sam turned around, took a swallow and waited. Spike didn’t bother.

“It’s a black ops thing,” he offered, dishing out the details piecemeal. “Complete secrecy.”

“What would we be doing?” Sam’s curiosity got the better of him. A job would be good. Better than hanging around the building trying not to eat the employees.

“Killing…more or less.”

Spike craned his neck to look at Angel who was staring at him. “Killing what?” Since Angel had been CEO, he killed quite a few things, humans included. Spike couldn’t guess at what his grandsire was up to now.

Angel motioned for them to come to the sofa and sit, settling on the leather cushions himself. Sam obeyed first, then gave Spike a look that made the blond roll his eyes. But he joined them.

“The Vangara,” he confided in a voice so low only the vampires could hear him. 

Understanding, Spike was equally discreet. “Who? That bloody leader’s got protection spells up the arse when he shows his ugly face here.” Magic like that, dark and ill-intended, stunk. The Vangara reeked. 

“All of them.”

Sam frowned. “All?”

Nodding, Angel whispered, “The entire clan. Nothing left alive.”

It was a solid plan, in theory, and so much like Angelus to be willing to implement that Spike found himself sending out feelers, taking a deeper breath, to be sure the older vampire was still on the path to broodiness. Of course he was, and Spike was being silly, but still, extinction of a species was a huge deal. 

To their credit, the Vangara were so desperate to complete their mating ritual because it was a matter of survival. The remaining demons of the race were old, too old to live for another impregnation cycle. If this failed, they would die off one by one, with no heirs. Spike almost felt sorry for them.

“I’m in,” he replied. “No way there’s a massacre and I’m not in the middle.”

They looked to Sam, who smiled and threw a mock salute. “Been waiting for that mission, chief.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

Because Angel didn’t trust the Senior Partners, he assumed his place was bugged, at the least his comings and goings monitored. Harmony was a likely suspect, but he had no clue who could be working both sides. 

Wesley, Gunn, Fred and Lorne were above this scrutiny, as was Spike, which Angel found a little disconcerting. Spike was the same little shit that he’d been since he rose from Drusilla’s makeshift grave, but the fact was he trusted the blond more than any of them to have his back no matter what the situation. He hoped that extending a small amount of that trust to Sam had not been a mistake. If the plan about the Vangara was leaked, he could be certain it came from the younger vampire and he would stake him accordingly. Spike would have to get over it.

This lack of faith in his employer’s good intentions led Angel to thinking about just how unsafe his environment was. He was alone most nights and if the Senior Partners wanted him staked, gaining access to his private quarters was a simple matter. Eve’s little intrusion was a prime example. Sam and Lindsey had proven that the rest of the building was not well-secured either, not in the way a vampire normally secured his lair. 

Once considered, he could not un-considered it and the seeds of his plan had taken root right after Spike whisked Sam away to drink, using patrol as a pretense. Angel had hardly slept all night, anxious to set it in motion.

Normally, Harmony handled his casual financial dealings, but he needed total secrecy for this to work. Instead, he rose early, for him, thankful that he had canceled his appointments for the day, dressed and headed for the bank, necro-tempered glass and underground parking a true blessing.

Since he had never been to the bank in person, the teller was as unenthused about serving him as she was about the next person. That pleased Angel greatly. Anonymity was critical and a bunch of pecuniary lackeys fawning over him would draw attention and perhaps raise a red flag.

With as little ceremony as possible, Angel withdrew $10,000 in cash and had another $40,000 in eight $5000 cashier’s checks drawn, payable to himself.

Next he took a trip to the Westfield Promenade Mall and located a metro pcs store where he purchased four new phones and started the services under a false name. No credit or id was needed because the unlimited local and long distance calling, internet access, email and text messaging were included in the premium plan’s monthly fee. The catch was that if the bill wasn’t paid by the due date, the service was cut before the carrier incurred any unpaid costs. Angel could live with that, if it meant regaining a little bit of his sanity.

Crazy was one way to describe how he’d been feeling since becoming CEO of Wolfram and Hart. Taking control of Evil Inc had been a rash, sacrificial decision and he was responsible for his friends being here. Maybe they would have signed up on their own, and maybe they would have run screaming from the place, but they never got to decide on their own. A little nudge had been given, and they were all with him in this, adrift in a ship of iniquity. 

During his drive back to the office, he tried out his new service, dialing a number that he hadn’t thought he would ever need again.

“David Nabbit, please,” he requested once the receptionist answered the line. 

“Who may I tell him is calling?” she asked, boredom making the question more like a statement.

“Uh, it’s Angel.”

The woman sighed and whispered, “He’s up to *that* again,” so low that only his preternatural hearing allowed him to pick up on it. “I’ll transfer you to him.”

He listened to music for about half a minute before the line was picked up.

“Angel?”

“David.”

“Gosh, it’s been a while. Are you still fighting the good fight, defeating evil at every turn?” he asked and Angel smiled tightly, remembering him flinging that cape around and Cordelia getting hot over all that financial talk.

“Yeah, every chance I get.”

“And you need my help?” 

“Actually, yeah, a couple of things.”

David gave a little yelp of joy and returned to the phone. “I’m your ever faithful servant.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

Spike stared at the phone before putting it back to his ear.

“Who the bloody hell is this?”

“Nevermind who I am,” David huffed. “Just get to the place where you and Marcus had a parting of ways right after sunset. Don’t bring the project and make sure the stars are blind.”

The call ended with a click and Spike was left feeling like he was coming in at the middle of a movie that he didn’t even know the name of. 

He snapped the cell phone shut and shoved it in his front jean pocket. Sundown was in about an hour, that was the one thing that was clear about the cryptic message. That, and that it was from Angel, or possibly Drusilla, but that was too scary a thought for him to entertain so he stuck with the safer choice. He only needed to know why.

It was obvious to him was that his grandsire wanted to be discreet and wanted no one to follow, hence the comment about the stars being blind. The project had to be Sam, but that only further confused Spike.

He took out a cigarette, lit up and inhaled deeply, curiosity piqued. In hopes of having it sated, he would be at the appointed place at the time and knock Angel in the head if he was playing games.

 

~~~*~~~

 

Spike cut the engine and got out of one of Angel’s cars, glancing around. He clicked the alarm and took off at a sprint for about a mile before slowing down and walking toward the warehouse by the docks. Eyes rolling, he wondered why Angel chose this place. It had been years since he had him tortured, but that was nothing, no time at all for a vampire who wished to exact his revenge.

A metal door rolled up and Angel stood holding the handle over his head, keeping it open.

“Get inside.”

Spike stepped past him, into the darkness, and waited while the older vampire let the door roll down with a bang.

“Were you followed?” 

Spike shook his head and got to the point. Angel could prevaricate with the best of them.

“Why the clandestine meeting, Peaches?”

Angel stared at the blond for a long moment. “I’ve been feeling a little paranoid lately.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “What, like for the last century or two?” Vampires were always paranoid to a certain extent.

“I want a lair, for us. All of us. And no one is to know where it is or even that it exists.”

It was the first sense Angel had made in a long time. “All right,” he replied, ready to put the insults and posturing aside when it mattered. “What do you need me to do?”

Smiling, showing fangs that were slightly too long, Angel answered, “Something that will piss me off…a lot.”


	4. Expanding the Universe

“Wanna patrol?”

Sam turned away from the television to see Spike leaning in the doorway, waiting for an answer, looking too much like he had an agenda. But the question was innocent enough and even if Sam didn’t know exactly what patrolling entailed, he had an idea.

“Yeah, sure, why not.” He stood slowly, feeling a little stiff from having been planted on the sofa all day. Sleep would not come; this place and his sire had his preternatural clock all twisted. “So, what’s a patrol exactly?”

Spike shook his head. “Never agree to something if you don’t know the terms. It’s how Dru got me to wear the…” he stopped short and frowned at the other vamp. “Never you mind. Now…patrol is where we go kill things and Peaches doesn’t have a fit…mostly. You in?”

Killing something, anything, would be a blessing. Sam was so insanely bored he was ready to chew his own fingers off for the entertainment value of watching them grow back. And things did grow back, he’d discovered the hard way once. Nerve and bone just took a lot longer than muscle and soft tissue. 

“Damn skippy, I am,” he announced happily and fetched his pea coat while Spike disappeared into Angel’s bedroom for a moment. The blond came out wielding a broadsword in one hand and an axe in the other. Sam reached for the sword, but it was withheld.

“Oh no. This one’s for me. You get the axe.” Sam pouted nicely, but took it when Spike didn’t react. “Besides, Ole Gut-o-Plenty would have that baby he’s been hiding under those suits if I let you play with his favorite toy.”

“But you can play with it and that’s fine?”

Spike gave him his best duh-face and pressed the button to call the elevator. “Oh, no. He’ll be peeling paint, he’ll be so steamed. I just don’t care.”

The doors opened and they stepped inside the lift. “Well, maybe I don’t care either.”

Laughing, Spike shoved the axe in his hands.

 

~~~*~~~

It began with the hunt. For vampires it often did.

They had been in Griffin Park , trolling for demons bold enough, or stupid enough, to be roaming around when Spike was searching for them. It wasn’t like he was discreet or sneaky. Smoke and leather gave him away, as did the age and power of the demon inside him. And as the undead population of Los Angeles was beginning to learn, souled or not, Spike was still capable of being maniacally vicious.

For a few months, back in Sunnydale, he admittedly _had_ softened up, let the soul make him feel way more for his intended victims, demons and humans alike. A quick dressing down by a tiny blonde slayer cured him of that affliction and he truly was thankful. Being a slave to any other emotion besides love was just too much for any demon to bear.

A pack of young fledges had been on the hunt, their scent first picked up by Sam. They were herding a group of runaways further from the population, intent on getting them in the deeper, more wooded section of the park so they could play their games without interruption. Slipping up on them undetected was too easy. Pity for them. But the fighting turned out to be more engaging that either had anticipated.

Then…they just ran off, dashing away at preternatural speeds, leaving Spike and Sam standing around looking lost. 

“What the heck was that?” Sam asked, pointing to the spot where he last saw them. 

The notion of chasing them down entered and fled Spike’s mind within the same second. No point really, since they would only be able to track down one fledge at a time and the others would escape anyway. Instead, Spike naturally slid from the urge to kill to another urge, equally satisfying in his book.

“Think they realized just who we were and skedaddled,” was Spike’s explanation. Sam shrugged, his ego big enough to accept that without question. One day he might learn to question most things coming from Spike’s mouth, but today he was blissfully unaware of his elder’s duplicity. 

“Cool,” he grinned and faced Spike, bouncing on his feet, bursting with energy, missing how the other vampire was watching him. “This place is dead. Let’s go to a demon bar and kill stuff.” Normally, he wasn’t one to start crap with fellow demons, but his blood was up, and he needed an outlet.

“We’ll just go to a bar. Not all demons are trouble; thought you’d know that after sixty years.” He lit a cigarette, took a deep drag and started walking. “Plus, I’m not supposed to take out anymore of Angel’s clients.”

Sam fell in step with Spike. “Aren’t his clients evil?” 

“Some are. Some aren’t. That’s what makes this whole gig so bloody infuriating. The greys.” He didn’t add that Sam was non-dust because of those grey areas that he was complaining about. Seemed hypocritical, and he was giving that up for Lent.

They reached the car, and Spike flipped the button on the key fob for the trunk. Tossing his sword in, he waited for Sam to do the same with the axe. “Be a good little vamp and don’t start anything.”

Sam stared at the blond a beat before nodding. Spike hardly every gave orders, not directly. Suggestions backed by violence if you didn’t take his advice were more his cup of tea, but a directive, even one as simple as this, was odd.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just get in.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

It was loud and sort of stinky to his sensitive nose, but the music was decent and the bartender was generous, so Sam just shut down his respiratory responses and tossed back another shot of tequila.

“What’s that?” he asked Spike, pointing at a greenish yellow creature taking up a large portion of a booth near the back.

Spike sipped his Jack Daniels and stared at the thing over this glass, trying to remember the proper name. “Can’t recall, but Dru and I were hunted by a pack of ‘em once.”

Apparently, the vampires came away unscathed, but Sam was curious. Lately, he was always curious and it annoyed him to think that there was so much he still didn’t know…and that Spike did.

“Why?”

Shrugging like it didn’t matter, Spike smiled a little at the memory anyway. “My Princess was always up to something wicked. This time, she was casting a spell to allow us access to a certain duchess’ home. The woman recently had a baby boy and Drusilla was fixated on it. Wanted the tyke more than anything, and was driving me completely barmy about it.”

Warmth from the liquor spread though his stomach and he settled in to listen, enjoying the way Spike looked when he spoke of Drusilla.

“So she took to hanging about a witch – she was already pretty good with the mojo, but she needed something special to get access to the home. Mathod brain matter…oh that’s it!”

Sam shook his head. “That’s what?”

“The name of their bloody species. Mathods. Anyway, she trapped one and took its head. A baby, it turned out. But who could tell, the thing was tall as me.”

“And that’s why they were after you guys,” Sam surmised. 

“Bad move for them. Angelus and Darla came back from some place or another. The big oaf ended up slaughtering the whole pack.”

Just like he wanted to do with the Vangaras. They both thought it but neither spoke about it, saved by a curvy little creature approaching with a deceptively human smile.

“Hey,” she greeted. 

“Well, hi-de-ho to you,” Sam replied, smiling as he looked her up and down, enjoying the way her raven hair sparkled from the girly glitter streaked through it. Spike nodded and took a large swallow, waving the waitress over. “What’s up?”

“Music’s real good, thought you’d maybe like to dance.” She glanced at Spike and added, “With me, just so we’re clear.” 

Spike laughed as Sam stood, thinking what the heck, and took her hand. “I’m Sam.”

“ Shelby. Who’s the blond?” she asked as they started to move to the music.

“Oh, that’s Spike.” 

She lost her rhythm for a second, eyes widening. “Like, *the* Spike?”

He frowned, amused. “Like, yeah, I guess. Why?”

“He kills our kind. You know that, don’t you?”

Sam shrugged, still dancing, now with his hands resting on her waist. “As long as he doesn’t kill me, I’m smooth.”

“No, seriously.” She leaned in close to whisper. “He, like, dusts vamps for fun or something… who knows why. It ain’t safe with him here.”

Laughing, Sam pulled her close and spoke low in her ear. “It ain’t safe with either of us here. Why don’t you do the underworld a service and lure us away? Sacrifice your virtue for the good of demons everywhere tonight.”

He was pressed against her and smelled really nice, her senses honed onto the blood in his veins, strong and old. Not as old as the other one, but powerful still and something she wanted. 

“Are you going keep him from staking me?” She nodded toward Spike.

Sam laughed again. “Staking you is pretty much all we’ll both be doing, Shelby.”

Her eyes glistened, turning dark. “Well in that case, come with me back to my place. There something you just gotta see.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

Her place was in the Hollywood hills, on a little side street off Beachwood Drive. Nestled securely into the incline as a house could be in severe earthquake territory, the view more than made up for the long drive.

A cold beer pressed into his hand, Spike swigged from it distractedly, and stared out through the glass, imagining that he was, for once, looking down on Angel and his empire of not-so-evil. 

“Check out this scene,” Sam said, nudging Spike until he turned to look. “This place is Fifth Ave all the way.”

Someone had been pretty well off. Not Shelby, Spike was certain. She was a young girl when turned and a young demon now. 

“Who lairs here with you, Shelby?” Spike asked quietly, sipping his beer.

The answer came to them from the bedroom. “No one…” She was frowning, but they could not see her. “Not anymore.”

“Your sire?” he moved toward the sound of her voice. The girl was a fledge, strong enough and smart enough to maintain her human features this entire time, yet Spike knew she wasn’t more than a year or two undead. A childe, not a minion. “Where is he? Or she?” He watched as she shimmied out of her tight jeans, her deep blue panties going along with them. Sam slipped up behind him, silent. Observant. Aroused.

“He’s gone. Dust. This was his place. He owned it before he was turned.” The words were clipped, hard like nails, paining her. Spike remained unreadable. Instantly, she relaxed, a smile full of sin. “Make me forget him.”

That sort of anguish and anger was familiar to the blond. After Angelus’ second disappearing act, Spike had been nearly as insufferable as Drusilla. He was certainly no help with her histrionics, and in retrospect, he could not blame Darla for taking off like she did. But they had been alone, sireless, and he still indescribably enraged because it had hurt, the demon and the latent man in him.

The Getting-Over-It meant that he spent the next twenty years murdering across Europe, following Drusilla’s visions and turning up just days late of catching up with Angelus.

All things considered, Shelby seemed to be handling the loss of the center of her demonic existence rather well. At least whole sections of Los Angeles weren’t on fire.

Spike smiled and extended his hand, silver dangling from his pale wrist.

“Come ‘ere, poodle.”

 

~~~*~~~

Angel hung up the phone, swearing softly. His chat with security had been informative, but he was still unsure about what he wanted to do next. The car was on Belden Drive so he had a destination and could pick up on the vibes of family once he got near enough but…

Why?

Spike was a big vamp and he would make sure Lawson behaved, if nothing else. It was the mutable definition of “behave” that had Angel worried. Well aware of how difficult it was to keep proper perspective when around his family, Angel was concerned that Spike and Sam would get into more mischief than intended.

Yet, wasn’t that the plan?

With a huge sigh, Angel stood and ambled tiredly to the elevator, halting when the door to his office was opened.

“You’re still here,” Wesley spoke from the crack, blue eyes making a question from none.

“Uh, yeah. I was just going up.”

Wesley pulled back, muttering his apologies. “I’ll just be going…”

“Wait…” Angel took a few steps in Wes’ direction, suddenly very sure that he did not want to spent the night alone. “I’ve been meaning to sit down with you and …well, kind of explain the whole sire/childe thing.”

Wesley opened the gap a little more, eyes bright. The watcher in him was intrigued, as expected, and the friend inside pleased. 

“I’d like that very much, Angel.” 

At Angel’s nod he came in and quietly closed the door. The dark vampire had strolled over to the small in-office bar that Lorne had insisted he have, and was pouring amber liquid into two crystal tumblers.

“Is that…” Wesley started while walking closer.

“Glenfiddich, yeah. I’ve been saving it.”

Wesley took the bottle from Angel reverently, eyed the 30 years on the label, and smiled again. “Are you trying to impress me, Angel?”

The vampire picked up both glasses and handed one to the head of his Research and Intelligence Division, the small smile pressing to become larger. 

“And if I am?”

Blue eyes widened slightly before narrowing and turning vague. “Tell me about the bond.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

They had joined their hostess and shed clothes a while ago. Black hair cascaded over translucent skin as Shelby leaned into Sam, her slender back to his chest, snuggly. Supported by the headboard, he slipped his hands between her knees and pressed them apart, stroking down the inside of her soft thighs.

This left her open to Spike’s gaze, as he lounged across the room on a sage green settee, stroking something of his own. He exhaled, smoke billowing around his head, and let his head fall back, eyes half mast, a odd cylindrical thing burning between the fingers of his free hand. The fledge had weed. Good weed. It took a bit more than the recommended human dosage, but they were all pretty high now. As Spike watched Shelby and Sam he wasn’t sure who he wanted to fuck more. 

He’d have them both eventually, that was the plan after all, but which to whet his appetite with first?

Spreading her cunt open, Sam slipped his fingers over her clit till she bucked and panted, deciding for the blond who rose from his chair, smooth and fluid.

Feeling him get closer, she opened her eyes just a bit, slanting them, afraid, but wanting him too. Needing what he could give her.

“Please…” she gasped, cut short as Sam turned her head and took her lips with his, swallowing her choked off moans when Spike slid his fangs into the tender flesh of her sex.

Spike suckled there for a moment, not taking much, just delighting in the taste of kindred. It had always been like this once upon a time. Feeding and fucking…pleasure and pain, all mixed up with no desire to understand the differences. Then a chip had him shying away from what he enjoyed most, and a soul had him regretting it when he did. Except this little tart wanted it all, needed it like blood, and, oddly, he was prepared to give it to her freely.

He pulled his teeth from her, smiling when she hissed and moaned, jerking away from the sting. He crawled up her body, blue eyes meeting eyes so brown they were black.

“You want it, little girl?” he growled.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Want me?” she nodded again, wiggling between the two males. 

Spike’s gaze left Shelby’s to take in Sam’s golden stare, and his powerful hand clamped down on the back of the younger male’s neck, drawing him in until their lips met. With both vampires now looking the part, nothing was tentative as they explored each other, their desire heightened by the desperate panting from the girl between them.

In that moment, as blood spilled from small cuts, Spike’s want for Angel’s childe was so great he was tempted to dust the fledge that separated them just to feel his skin. He tore way instead and gave his attention to the black-haired creature pressing into him, shoving two fingers inside her wetness. Sam went back to kissing her neck.

“Do you want _us_? And everything that means?” 

“Fuck,” she groaned, unable to move much, backward or forward, trapped. “Please…just…do it.”

Before she finished the last word, she was full, fangs and cock buried deep as Spike thrust up into her, draining her at the same time. He took great mouthfuls, hunger truly sated for the first time in years. Just as she was going limp between them, Spike retracted his fangs and bit into his own wrist, shoving it under her nose.

“Drink.”

Not that weak yet, she latched on, drawing on Spike’s strong blood, getting back some of what he’d taken. He was still driving into her, his movement more frantic and jerky as he got closer.

The coming was sudden, but no less mind-melting for it, and Spike slumped into the near unconscious girl. In an instant, he was shoved off, not by Shelby, but Sam who was smiling darkly.

“My turn?”


	5. Don’t They Have Pills For That?

They were drunk. Well, Wesley was drunk and Angel was feeling very mellow. Yet, even when inebriated, the human retained more of his faculties than most people had sober.

And he was unabashedly curious.

“So sex with your children…no, no, no, childer, sorry,” he corrected, slurring only slightly. “Sex with your *childer* is a way to gain control over them and it has nothing to do with emotions.” He wanted clarification. Before learning about the Aurelians he had believed that demons were unfeeling and emotionless. The opposite seemed to be more true, maybe not of minions, but definitely of the elite vampire royalty like the ones he worked with. 

“It was complicated. Sometimes there was affection. Pride was a factor and there was always that need to possess and own everything around me.” Angel leaned back and took a sip before closing his eyes as he rested against the sofa. “I wanted them, no doubt about it, but it’s like I didn’t have a choice. It’s ingrained in vampires to want family, like seeking like.”

“But you actually enjoyed their company.” He let it hang out there, a question if Angel was willing to answer it.

“Well, I liked Darla enough, and wanted her like blood. Dru…I had to possess everything about her so that I was all she could see.”

“Until Spike,” Wesley observed coolly.

“Yeah, until Spike. Dru made him and had been playing with him for three days before she saw fit to drag him home and at first…we got along. But Spike doesn’t share well and I really didn’t have patience for anything that wasn’t completely mine.”

“And since Spike is Drusilla’s he never did take to you as being the authority.”

Angel frowned then and opened his eyes to stare at Wesley. “Spike is mine.”

At this Wesley frowned, himself. “I’m confused. You just said Drusilla made him and no doubt he was trained by you, but that doesn’t change the demon that was passed along…”  
Angel’s shaking his head had Wesley trailing off. “There’s a ritual, simple really if both are willing, a little more difficult if the intended is not, but it’s still possible obviously…you can re-sire a fledge.”

“Oh.” God did Wesley wish he had been recording this.

 

~~~*~~~

 

Spike stood in the window, staring out, smoke curling from the cigarette in this hand. The moon was nearly full and cast him in a pale light, making him appear silver and blue. 

His cell phone, the new one Angel had given him yesterday, had just stopped buzzing in his hand. It was the third time his grandsire had tried to call him. During two of those attempts he had been fucking so he got a pass, but now he just didn’t want to talk to Angel. 

He was edgy and nervous and didn’t like it one bit.

“What’s bothering you?”

It was Sam, standing a few feet away, just as naked as the blond, but sporting a rather large number of bites and scratches, and aching deep inside where it was good to ache. Spike admired his work for a few seconds before shaking his head.

“Nothing, not really. Just thinking. We should stay here.”

Sam grinned evilly. “As in run away from Angel together and start a family of our own?”

“No, idiot. As in lair here in this very spot.” He took a deep drag as Sam watched his profile.

“What about Shelby?” he asked, his eyes darting to the opened doorway where the smallish vampire slept, exhausted. Sam really didn’t care one way or the other, but he wanted to know Spike’s position. 

“She’s mine now and she’ll mind or I’ll dust her.” The girl would be better than a minion, smarter, which could be a benefit or problem, depending on how much loyalty she had for him. And having an unsouled vampire in his camp would make everything they were about to do more believable anyway. 

He just hoped Angel saw it that way.

 

~~~*~~~

 

Before the sun rose, Spike woke Shelby while he and Sam dressed.

She scooted to the edge of the bed, a sheet still tangled around her legs making it difficult for her to stand. “The sun’s almost up. Where are you going?” she asked, struggling with the linen until she grew impatient and tore it free.

“I’m meeting someone. And I’ll be back.”

_I’ll be back_. That’s what her sire had told her. It was the last thing he told her.

“Sam’s going?” Her glare went from Spike to Sam and back to Spike. “I’m going too,” she announced gathering her clothes from the previous night and holding them, all balled up, to her breasts.

Spike stilled midway through pulling his shirt over his head. “You’re not to leave, Shelby.” He finished, yanking the garment down by its hem. “I want to know where you are at all times. So that means you stay here. Understand?” He had given a fledge his blood, made her stronger, made her his. He was not going have her pull a runner and have to do it again.

Still, she was reluctant to let him go, fear in her eyes and emitting from her skin. He mollified her the easiest way he knew how, with a few swallows of his blood, feeling slightly played when she calmed too quickly, smiling at his narrowed eyes.

They left soon after, barely making it to the car and the necro-tempered glass before the sun decided to rear its hateful head. When Spike headed downtown instead of to his apartment, Sam spoke up.

“Man, I don’t wanna hang around the office all day. Can’t we just go to your place until dark?” He was also pretty certain they’d have more sex if they were alone. Sex was good, one of the best things about being a vampire.

Spike could smell his intent, and shook his head, tempting as it was. “Nope, Angel’s been calling. And I’ve been ignoring him for a while now. Best to see what he wants before his brow turns into a permanent V.”

Since he was not really in a position to argue, Sam sat back and closed his eyes for the rest of the trip. Shadow and light flickered alternately over his face as sunbeams found their way between buildings and palm trees and he frowned. Special glass or not, the sun made his demon antsy and he tried to block it out as much as possible.

The parking garage of Wolfram and Hart was mostly deserted. Just approaching half past six, most of the staff would not arrive until closer to eight. Spike passed all that parking and accessed the private executive area, via swiping a keycard, and maneuvered the vehicle into its space. He cut the engine and dialed.

“We’re back,” he said quietly, and listened for a few second. “I was busy.” His somber face spread into a smile as Angel barked at him. “Not really any of your business, mate. We’ll be at the meeting, don’t worry.” He pressed end, cutting Angel off mid-rant. 

He turned to Sam. “Peaches missed you terribly and has requested your presence at Court.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

The human aspect of the gang was gathered around the conference room table. A platter of bagels, cream cheeses and fruit had been dragged from its placement in the center to resting right in front of Fred who was currently slathering her jalapeño bagel with chipotle flavored cream cheese. 

“The device needs a trigger to work though.” She was updating them on her latest project while they waited for Spike and Angel to show. Well, actually for Angel because Spike might or might not make it, and if they held up a meeting for him, they’d get a lot less done.

“Mystical or physical?” Wesley asked and Fred shrugged, her mouth full.

“Both?” she managed, then took the time to swallow. “Just in case.”

The door leading from the hallway burst open, admitting Spike and Sam. Gunn and Wesley exchanged glances. Fred pushed the platter over and smiled.

“Hey, Spike. Sam. Bagel?” she offered. They both looked very hungry and even though she knew their hunger was for something else, a full belly was a full belly.

“Hello Fred. No thanks,” Sam replied and sat off by the bar, away from the windows and as far away from them as he could be while still in the same room.

Spike plopped into the chair next to hers, snagged a hunk and, forgoing the cream cheese, took a big bite. “Where’s the Pouf?”

“Angel,” she stressed, correcting him gently, “hasn’t come down yet.” She pointed to the papers next to her. “Wanna hear about my magical stasis conductor?”

A blank expression fell over his face. He’d do a lot for this girl, but it was too early in the day for a techie overload. 

The elevator door opened, the sound carrying from Angel’s office like a bell of doom, and seconds later the vampire himself appeared, saving Spike from refusing Fred’s offer to make his brain explode.

“Sorry. I had a late night.” His eyes settled on Wesley for a second before moving on to take in the presence of Spike and Sam. The latter was doing his best to disappear in his corner, seeming ansty, and Angel wondered what had happened.

“Let’s make this quick. I still have to meet with those god damned Vangaras.”

Since Fred already had the floor, she continued, catching Angel up quickly on the premise of this new weapon. The sum of it was that it could, if powered correctly, stop a spell in its tracks. The design was rough and she needed a better trigger, but it was coming along nicely and she had hope that it would be operational by the end of the week.

Angel nodded, pleased that he might have something to help stop the ritual without resorting to his last resort plan, Spike and Sam. Said plan reeked of sex and Angel’s nostrils flared, eyes narrowing.

“Angel, are you all right?” Wesley asked.

Angel laughed lightly. “Guys, I totally forgot…I need to do something. We can finish this tomorrow, okay?” 

Looking put out, Fred started to say something when Angel gave her his puppy dog eyes of apology and she melted, smiling. 

“Okay, I’ll email the Powerpoint.”

Gunn was out the door first, not questioning his good fortune, and Fred skipped away taking Lorne, who had just arrived late, with her. Lingering for a half a moment, Wesley slipped away. His desire to know what was going on between Angel and his offspring was decidedly left unsatisfied.

Spike was right behind Wes, strolling easily toward the door when it was slammed shut in his face. Exit blocked, he shoved his hands deep in his coat pockets and stared at Angel.

“Something you want?”

Angel crossed his arms. “Have a seat, Spike.” He inclined his head toward a chair, expectant. The blond debated his chances of getting out of the room before Angel could stop him. Not liking the odds, he stomped over and slumped into the chair. 

“You too, Sam.”

The other demon was startled. He had half hoped that his sire had temporarily forgotten about him. No such luck, he thought as he moved closer and sat in the seat beside the blond.

Looming over them for a moment, Angel gaped at them, disbelief so astonishing that he was having a hard time forming words.

“Well, this was…neat,” Spike went to stand but Angel shoved him back into the leather, cube-like seat.

“You stink of each other.” Angel shook his head. “Didn’t even bother to shower. Just fucked and strolled right on in, like I wouldn’t know.”

Angel’s fist in his mouth stopped any flippant reply Spike may have had and the fight was on. Rolling to the left, out of the chair and away from the lightening quick blows, Sam crouched low and scrambled to safer ground.

They exchanged a flurry of punches, each blocking better than any other opponent could have, but Angel eventually landed a lucky shot to Spike’s temple, sending the demon reeling backwards. Angel stalked him and delivered an uppercut to Spike’s chin and the blond went sailing, crashing through the filmy glass that separated the conference room from the lobby area. 

Wesley appeared immediately, expression grim as he frowned at the broken glass and a bleeding Spike. He shifted his attention to his boss who was breathing like an enraged bull. “Is this is going to become a habit, Angel?”

“What?” He scowled because of Wesley, but his eyes never left Spike as the other vampire stood and shook off the shards. Other employees had gathered to watch the scene. “Don’t you have work to do?” he snapped at them and they scattered. 

All but Wesley who was unimpressed. “This throwing your offspring through the conference room window. If it’s going to be a habit--”

“Not. Now. Wes,” he groused out, tight and clipped.

“Yeah.” With the back of his hand, Spike wiped the blood from his mouth and swallowed down the rest. “Don’t be interrupting the Pouf when he’s playing sire. It makes him cranky.”

“Shut up, Spike,” Angel warned, tone still tight and barely under control. He wanted to beat the shit out of Spike…and Sam…but Wesley would put up a stink about it, being all fair-minded. 

Sam had inched along the perimeter, unnoticed, and now placed a hand on Spike’s shoulder. “Let’s just go, okay?” As entertaining as it was to see blood shed and violence, something in him broke when it was these two doing it to each other. He had no point of reference for it and wanted it to stop. Leaving seemed the easiest way to make that happen. But Spike and Angel were having a Mexican _Stare_ -Off, neither moving, but both coiled so tight and ready to strike that it made Sam’s skin crawl. Tugging on Spike’s coat, he tried moving toward the elevators and away from his sire. “Now.” 

_Before one of you dusts the other_. 

He hadn’t realized how unacceptable an option that was for him until Spike nodded, jaw relaxing a tick, and let himself be led away, and Sam’s demon was flooded with relief.


	6. Wayward

Since there were a great many hours until sunset, Spike was forced to steal another one of Angel’s cars in order to make the trip to his apartment in relative safety. He didn’t mind the burn or two it would take to get from the car to the entrance to his building, and Sam would just have to deal…or combust. They both made it to the shaded walkway just barely smoking.

With a sigh, he turned the key and went inside, his new shadow trailing in silence. Sam had been quiet since they’d left Wolfram and Hart. Temptation to ask the younger vampire about it was dampened by Spike’s big boatload of _don’t care_. He packed his things, not enough to indicate that he had moved out or was away, but a few changes of clothes, his favorite CDs and the same brand of hair gel he condemned Angel for using, and then settled in to wait for dark to come. Passing the time by playing video games lasted for all of an hour before he and Sam were on each other. All wet mouths and old, burning passion … nothing like love but family was family… and this was what they were created for, odd existences aside. 

Eventually they were spent, showered and found the energy to fuck against the cracked tile walls and then crashed out completely. Spike stirred first as the sun dropped from the sky. He nudged Sam to wakefulness as he dressed in the clothes he’d discarded earlier.

“Time to go.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded and gazed at him hungrily. 

“Later. I want to be gone from here in case _he_ shows up.”

Shoving his pants on, Sam frowned. “Why would he come here?”

“Because he’s a big Irish lout and a pouf and a wanker.” Spike laced up his Docs, slung his holdall over his shoulder and scooped up the keys to the car. “Ready?”

In for a penny, in for a pound, Sam finished dressing, slipped on his Pea coat, and went along for the ride, resolved to endure whatever this was until it ended and another enterprise began. 

They traveled across Los Angeles, traffic less than appealing, but nowhere near as bad as it could be, until reaching Hollywood. Then, at Spike’s insistence, they abandoned Angel’s fleet car and stole another. In this one, a black Dodge Durango, they drove back to Shelby’s place high in the hills. The sounds of the Ramones filled the air when they drove up and parked in the deeply angled driveway.

As soon as Sam knocked on the door, it was flung open by a grinning little raven haired vampire. She looked a lot cooler than she felt.

“I was wondering if you’d come back,” she commented as Spike and Sam strolled in past her. Spike dropped his bag on a white alabaster coffee table and turned to her.

“Missed us?” he was smirking.

Closing the door, she frowned and put her hands on her slender hips, eyeing his bruised eye and various cuts. “I was sleeping all day. How could I miss you? And what happened?”

Instead of answering, he allowed the ever-so-helpful Shelby to fawn over his injuries. That they were already healing nicely and didn’t need any care at all wasn’t a factor, but it gave them something to do, even if he ignored her constant questions about how he got them.

Once done with that task, she expressed a need to go on a hunt. Spike forbid it and took to fucking her as a way to keep her quiet and complacent. Sam, not to be anti-social, joined in after American Idol went off the air and he had called in to vote for his favorite…twice.

The sex was slow and lazy as hours ticked by, and finally all of them got tired enough to doze off in the big king-sized bed, very comfortable and content until Sam was jarred awake by a creepy sense of being watched that was confirmed when he turned over.

“Angel,” he spoke loudly, kicking Spike under the covers.

The oldest of them just stared from his spot, leaning in the doorway while Spike sat up and ran his hand through his hair, blue eyes penetrating brown brooding ones.

“Took you long enough.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

Fred reclined in the chair opposite Wesley’s desk, her long legs perched on the wood, attracting his gaze.

“Is it ready?” she asked stuffing the last bite of sweet and sour chicken in her mouth.

The question registered slowly, for him, and he lifted his eyes to meet hers to find her smiling while chewing. Nothing got between Fred and a good meal … when she decided to eat.

“Almost,” he replied gruffly, then cleared his throat. “I’m translating the last bit of Sumerian now.” He peered more intently at the book before him and wrote something down on the parchment. 

Then, taking an oval-shaped crystal, he set it in a small bowl, sprinkled it with a powdery substance, and began reading the translated incantation. After repeating it seven times, the crystal glowed, a deep bright blue, then the color mellowed out. “There. All done.”

Leaning back, he gave her a smug grin, pleased with his work and hoping she would be as well. 

She sat up and bounced a little in her seat, that restless energy in her picking this moment to break free. “Wes, you’re the best. Angel’s gonna be really happy if this works.”

He smiled and looked away, a little uncomfortable thinking about a happy Angel and what he thought it actually took to achieve that beatitude. “Yes, I imagine he will be pleased to have some way to stop the Vangara should all talks fail.”

Her bottom lip poked out with a sigh as her shoulders slumped. “And they look like they’re failing.”

Wesley covered the bowl containing the crystal and rose. “Let’s test it now.”

More than eager, Fred was instantly up and leading Wesley to her lab and her latest creation. 

They passed Knox with a breezy hello and, using her access, entered a room closed off from the rest of the lab. The device sat proudly in the middle of a stainless steel table.

“Knox made the physical trigger earlier today and that worked fine. The mystical one goes here.” She pointed to a slender chamber, then put on a pair of gloves, before taking the crystal from the bowl. The installation took seconds and once in place, the thing seemed to fuse itself to the device.

She turned to him, serious and bossy. “Now I just need you to cast a little spell.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

“What the heck is he doing here?” Sam hissed while rousing Shelby by shaking her shoulder violently. Fucking fledges slept like the dead. “How’d he find us?”

Spike tossed him his trousers and spoke while shoving his legs in his own worn jeans. “He’s always known where we were.” No other explanation forthcoming, he left Sam and the girl in the bedroom with an order to _stay put_ and found Angel standing in front of the bay window.

“Nice view.”

Leaning on the glass so as to block some of that view, Spike nodded. “Yeah, reminds me of something Darla’d pick out.”

Angel stepped away, carefully avoiding Spike’s nearness. “I have some equipment in the bag.” He indicated a duffle on the sofa. “To sweep for bugs.”

Spike pushed off the window and took a look inside Angel’s carryall, boring quickly with its contents. He gave that up to root around in his own bag, searching for his extra smokes. “The place is clean, Angel.”

“Yeah, now it is, but who knows when the Senior Partners might get wise or one of us gets sloppy. Speaking of which…” he leaned in close to Spike, nearly nose to nose, pleased when his younger froze. “Did you turn someone recently?”

Spike smiled and shied away from the challenge. “Oh yeah. About that…”

Standing straight, Angel crossed his arms and waited. Spike always told the best lies.

“Well, it’s like this. Shelby …that’s her name…she was at this bar, and when she discovered who I was she wanted to save her fellow demons by distracting me and your boy Sam with a bit of nooky so she did...” He was leering at Angel now. “And we did and the poor thing had just lost her sire and knowing how that feels, I decided to step in and take over…You know history repeats and all that.” Spike was over the leering and just stared at Angel.

This was a topic that neither of them wanted to speak of, going back to a night when Angelus decided to take what Drusilla had made for her own.

“And the point, Spike?” he asked instead, because with Spike there was always a point.

The blond sighed, maybe relieved, maybe impatient. “The girl is our ticket to validity. No one will believe I’ve gone back to being evil unless I do some evil, control some evil.”

His stare drifted from Spike and became distant while he thought out the scenario. After half a minute’s contemplation, he turned to the other vampire. “How much evil?” 

Spike resisted smiling. “Enough. Don’t worry, you get to play too.”

Scowling, Angel shook his head, denying his interest in anything Spike might want to play, and changed the subject. 

“The Vangaras. I want it done. Tomorrow, unless I call it off.”

It was Spike’s turn to frown. “You’re serious?”

Angel crossed his arms again and Spike shrugged.

“Alright, Peaches. Messy or clean?”

Thinking about the weeks he’d spent in conference with those smelly demons and how they were going to violate those girls and making him do that stupid ritual dance to cleanse his hybrid, vampire ass of the humanity that was infecting him…they just didn’t understand the concept of a soul…Angel grinned and replied, “As messy as it can get.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

Fred jumped back, the device stinging her hand, and stared at the results of their little test.

“It works,” she commented happily and rubbed her palm, her grin turning to a pout. “And it burns.”

Wesley looked a bit less excited. As the caster of the spell-interrupted, he was also a target of the stasis conductor and was frozen in place. That was an unexpected side-effect and she was now hurriedly recalibrating the device to reverse. She wasn’t sure that he was even able to inhale air, or, if in his counterpoised state, he needed to.

The device reset, she pointed it at Wesley and used the physical trigger.

As soon as she did, the knife that he had sent flying magically as part of the test, continued its path, becoming imbedded in the wall, and Wesley hollered.

“God…Bloody hell! Fred…” he stumbled to the floor and curled up into fetal position, trembling. She dropped the device and fell to her knees beside him.

“It’s okay, Wes. I’m here.” She got up, opened the door to the rest of the lab and shouted to one of her assistants. “Get medical!”


	7. New Toys

The trembling was getting worse. Fred turned Wesley over onto his back, her lips pressed tightly together as she took in his wild, pained stare. She did this.

“Wes…Oh God, Wes…Please…” His hands were fisted, closed so tightly that blood was dripping from one palm down his wrist. He wasn’t breathing.

“Help!!” she screamed again, glancing up through teary eyes to see the firm’s paramedics racing through her doorway.

“What happened?” one asked, while swooping down on the other side of Wesley’s body. 

Fred shook her head. “I don’t know. We were testing out…” she trailed off, knowing she had no way of explaining to them about magical stases conductors and proportionate backlash, at least not without her Powerpoint, and there was no time for that, so she went for the most pressing matter at hand. “He’s not breathing, there was a shock to his system from this device, so, electrical maybe. Sweating and shaking…” She felt a little of that old crazy slipping in and pushed it back diligently.

The paramedics did their work, performing CPR, while she waited, grim faced, her thin arms tightly wrapped around her middle. After less than a minute, he inhaled softly, the rise and fall of his chest the most perfect sight to her eyes.

“Wesley?” she tried to get closer, but one of the EMTs blocked her way, then put an oxygen mask over his nose and slipped the band around his head. 

“Let’s move him,” he said, getting the other man’s help in shifting Wesley onto a gurney. He turned to Fred. “You should come along--and we'll need that thing,” he nodded toward the conductor, not knowing what to call it.

“Yes, of course.” She picked it up and marched out behind them, refusing to cry in front of her staff. Knox nodded at her, looking solemn, and she gave him a grateful half smile as she passed.

He followed her with his eyes until she disappeared through the double doors, then he turned to the crew.

“All right, back to work people.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

Shelby stared into the bathroom mirror, pretending to see her image. She still recalled her own face, and used a digital camera to help her get ready sometimes, so her features were familiar to her and it was easy enough to make believe she was reflected in that glass over the sink. It was a silly thing to do. Her sire - her first sire - had discouraged it, but she was on edge and needed to calm down. She was feeling panicky. Seeing Angel, being trapped in this house with him, was highly bothersome. She wanted to run and get away from the oddness he created, but felt so tied to Spike now that it was scaring her. 

And Spike wasn’t bothered in the least by the older demon’s presence. She wanted that kind of resolve for herself.

She turned on the shower and put her fingers under the water until it was warm enough before stepping inside the stall. Sticking her face in the spray, she let the warm flow wash over her, smiling softly when she felt a rush of cooler air and heard the click of the frosted glass door.

Sam slipped in behind her, pulling her close until she was flush with his chest.

“What’re they doing?” she asked, and felt him shrug before he let her go and answered.

“Talking, for now.”

“Is he gonna stake me?”

“Doubt it.” It wasn’t the reassurance she was looking for and when she stiffened, he turned her to him, pushing the wet hair back from her face. “Hey, you’re okay. Spike made you his, right?”

She nodded. “But Angel, he’s been hunting vamps for years. Which is really sick. My sire told me to stay away from him. Always.”

Sam found that he had to agree with her and was about to tell her so when the bathroom door opened. 

“Come on out kiddies,” Spike ordered. “Da wants to have a chat.” Then he was gone. 

Curious and certain that the choices were limited at this point, Sam urged Shelby to leave the warm haven of the shower. They redressed quickly and came out into the living room together.

Spike sat in a chair, sprawled lazily in jeans that hung too low on his hips and nothing else. His head was tilted back until he was seeing the ceiling; a cigarette dangled from his lax fingers, looking ready to fall. 

The fresh bite on Spike’s long pale neck stood out like a whore at a nunnery. Sam eyed it hungrily. The smack to the side of his head was an unpleasant surprise. 

Angel stood next to him, arms hanging loosely by his side, casual to someone who didn’t actually know better. 

“That…” He pointed at Spike, but kept his dark stare on Sam, “Is not for you.”

The blow smarted, not enough to complain about it, but still…it hurt. And in front of Shelby. It was doubly insulting to be shown you place in the presence of the newest. Rubbing where Angel popped him, he nodded. “I can understand English pretty good so lay off.”

Angel just smirked. “I like to be sure I have your full attention. No misunderstandings that way.” His semi-smile faded, a faucet suddenly running cold, as his gaze slid over to the tiny black-haired vampire doing her best to hide behind Sam. “This is interesting,” he said, then glanced at Spike.

“What?” the blond asked, annoyed that Angel was playing these games, but not ready to put an end to it yet. Pick your battles wisely, that was his motto…today.

“Well, you have to admit…she does bear a great resemblance to Dru.”

He pulled on the cigarette, taking a long drag. But his jaw was a shy bit tighter than it had been before and Angel was pleased. He wanted to beat Spike, fuck him until he was broken and begging him to never stop, but there was a mission to think about so his fun was seriously being messed with here.

Still, he wasn’t going to stand for these three copulating at will, like he didn’t own them all. Demon riled, he felt it when his eyes bled to gold and shook it off. Spike slowly turned his head to look at him, a seedling of a smile quirking at his lips.

“You think you can refrain from driving this one around the bend, Angelus? I’d like to get some use out of her and prefer them sane these days.”

Shelby was frowning, not knowing who Dru was and not liking this tension over her. She wasn’t old enough to understand vampire ways, but instinct told her that Angel and Spike were doing battle at that moment, calm as it may seem, and that she could be dust at any second if it went badly, just to prove a point..

Angel just shrugged, not committing one way or another. “You come here,” he pointed at Shelby. Her eyes went big and she shrank back a step, becoming even smaller. “Let’s go for a walk.” 

The smell of Spike’s blood lingered in the air and she looked to him, hoping for protection, but all she got was a cool blank stare. “Do as granddad says, poppet.”

Rolling his eyes, Angel strolled for the door, opened it and stood expectantly. After a few more seconds, Shelby followed him out.

 

~~~*~~~

Wesley’s condition was stabilized.

He had woken long enough to vomit and then speak to her for a moment. Reassured, she had allowed herself a good cry after he’d fallen into a more restful sleep. Now she paced the small hospital room, door to window to door, waiting for the doctor to return with the results. And she was angry.

She’d called Angel’s office and his cell repeatedly, left urgent messages with Harmony, and even had the blonde vampire go check the penthouse for their boss, but he was M.I.A. He needed to know what had happened to their friend and she wanted someone to tell her everything would be okay.

Angel was good at that. So was Spike, she thought and promised to try his cell shortly.

The door was pushed open to reveal a young woman in a white labcoat, not unlike Fred’s. Fred had seen her before at some of the meetings where she was introducing a newly approved technology or whatnot to the medical staff. 

“Dr. Wilson,” Fred sighed, so glad to see someone who could give her answers and put her fears to rest. “How is he?” 

“Hello, Ms. Burkle.” They shook hands and Dr. Wilson took a few seconds to scan Wesley's chart again before continuing. “He took a pretty good shock, but all the results so far indicate no permanent damage to his nervous system. Or any other system, for that matter. I’d like to monitor his condition until tomorrow though, just to be safe.”

Fred was very agreeable to that, intent on staying with him as well. Something in her was revolted by the idea of leaving him alone in the hospital, like it was an abandonment of some sort. It was silly, she knew, yet it was unshakeable, how she felt. Unfortunately, that meant she was not going to have a workable device for Angel, and needed to make him aware of that.

“Please do whatever you think is best. I’ll be right back.” She took out her cell phone and headed for the hall.

 

~~~*~~~

 

Angel’s chat with Shelby was short and to the point – do as he said or be staked. She didn’t really put up a fuss about it, and they walked the rest of the block with him asking questions about her human life as well as her demonic one before he took her back to the house.

Spike and Sam both looked guilty when he walked in, and the stink of desire was thick in the air. He gazed at Shelby. “Give me tour of the place.”

Happy to be helpful, she obliged quickly, showing him all the perks of a Hollywood Hills home. Sam trailed behind them, for appearance’s sake, but curious about certain gadgets as well. Spike was sitting in the family room when they returned, flipping through the satellite television channels.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I’d prefer heavier drapes on that wall of windows over there,” Angel advised him with a nod of his head. “But otherwise, it’ll work.”

Sam walked up to Spike and crossed his arms. “Work for what? What’s he talking about?”

The blond gave him a sideways glance. “As a lair. What the bloody hell do you think we’re doing here?”

“Wait…” he looked from Spike to Angel and back. “ _He’s_ moving in here, too?” 

Tossing the remote on the coffee table, Spike laughed and leaned back on the sofa. “Was his idea in the first place. Besides, we’ll have all day to play while Daddy’s at work.”

Fed up, Angel stormed over to Spike, wrapping his hand around the other vampire’s throat. Spike scoffed and tried to bat it away, but his grip was too tight, and then Angel sat on him, making it nearly impossible for Spike to get any leverage and move. 

“Sam, take Shelby downstairs.” Angel spoke softly and his eyes never left Spike’s angry ones, but crossing him now was ill-advised. Sam hesitated for only a beat before snatching the girl by her upper arm, hearing Angel’s last order clearly as they descended to the lower level, “And don’t come back until I tell you to.”


	8. A Place For Everything and Everything In Its Place

Fred was worried.

Angel was missing and wasn’t calling anyone back. Lorne had been sent to represent some famous client who was having trouble on set in Hawaii of all places and was “unreachable at the moment, Ms. Burkle”. Spike was gone who knew where, chased away by Angel being even more grumpy than normal, and he had taken that somewhat nice vampire with him. And she was worried.

She _had_ been able to catch Charles at the airport and now he was on a plane, returning from interviewing a witness in Salt Lake City, and she felt better knowing someone was coming, but still had a hollow sense of abandonment that felt familiar, yet not, like she’d dreamed it before.

Pushing Wesley’s door open, she stepped inside, the treats she had retrieved from his desk concealed discreetly. Wesley looked up, smiling.

“I think I got it all,” she announced and set the items down on the rolling bed tray. 

Starving, Wesley reached for a package, moving a little slowly as his nerves and muscles got reacquainted. It was painful, but not unbearably so, and Fred’s attention more than made up for any discomfort he might have felt. “Thank you, Fred.” He admired the label of a favored biscuit before carefully opening the box. “Still no word?” he asked, his smile melting into a frown because she wore one as well.

Fred shook her head and sat on the bed by his feet. “It’s the damnedest thing that everyone’s just gone…except for Harmony who, while as sweet as pie for a vampire that is, just isn’t someone I’m ready to rely on.”

Taking a bite, Wesley’s thoughts roamed, images flashing like lightening in his brain, too quick to latch on to any one, but leaving him feeling dizzy and sick to his stomach. He scratched at his neck.

“It’s my poor timing to choose now to be incapacitated,” he joked, but Fred didn’t feel like making light of it.

“Wesley, I’m so sorry. This was completely my fault. I should have known the affects and done more testing on live subjects before letting you cast that spell. You could have died. And then what?” she demanded of him although she was really asking herself. Tears streamed over her cheeks, leaving wet trails of mascara, and she wiped away with a half-hearted attempt that left her looking like a young chimney sweep.

The sight saddened him deeply and he pushed the bed tray away to take her hand and draw her close. Despite the pain, he crushed her slim form to his, holding her tightly while soothing her with fingers through her silky hair. “I will never blame you,” he vowed, his lips brushing her temple as he spoke. “You need to understand that. We all do this work, Fred, and there are risks.” 

He kissed her then and pulled back to see her face and she did a better job at wiping away fresh tears as she gave him a hesitant smile. “You just love me and have to say that.”

He smiled back. “That I do.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

He smelled like sex. The whole house did, but Spike was the epicenter of it all, the scent lingering on him, like white on rice.

Angel hate it. He loved it. And he tried to stop the very strong urge to tear off those jeans to check and see just who had been fucking whom. Rather quickly, he lost that internal battle so to the tune of one massive vampire’s growling, Spike found himself stripped of his pants, ass up and his face pushed cruelly into the cushions of the sofa.

Spike struggled to get free, his curses muffled and angry, but Angel was laughing and had a grip on his neck that felt like an iron vise, pinching nerves there until an unholy pain shot down his back and he stilled instantly. Having once been paralyzed and at Angelus’ non-existent mercy he was overly cautious of spinal injuries; it was the one thing that made him careful.

Not unaware of Spike’s fears, Angel was only too happy to use them to his advantage when needed. He stroked his free hand down the bony knobs of the younger vampire’s vertebrae, not stopping until he reached his bottom.

More muffled yelling and Spike was wiggling again. Angel let up enough so he could turn his head.

“What the bloody hell’s your problem?” he shouted and tried to buck Angel off of him. With no leverage, all he did was grunt. “Get off me!”

Angel let his fingers slip lower, circling the tight opening there. “Who’s been playing in my sandbox, Spike?” 

Heat spread, blossoming like a flower around Spike’s lower back and he stopped his squirming, but his muscles were tense, trembling, a rattler ready to strike.

“What do you care, _Daddy_?” he asked, groaning as Angel pushed a thumb inside him. “Bloody haaa…fuck, Angel. What?”

Angel leaned over so that his lips caressed Spike’s ear and shoved his thumb deeper just to make sure he had the boy’s full attention. “Who?” he whispered, although he already knew that no one had been there in a while. Spike was as tight as any virgin ass he’d ever…encountered. But still…this was fun.

“Dru…” Spike panted, trying to adjust to the small invasion, knowing a much bigger one was probably in his future, like it or not. “Darla,” he added just to piss Angel off a bit. 

Predictably, Angel retaliated with a hard thrust up Spike’s ass before yanking out carelessly and turning Spike over. Quickly, he straddled slim hips and secured seemingly delicate wrists over that shocking blond head of hair.

“Dru I get, ’cause she’s always been able to get you to do anything…” Angel had a confused frown on his face, “But Darla?” 

Spike rolled his eyes. “Yeah well, clearly she missed your plump round arse.”

Angel was back to smiling which, given his predicament, Spike wasn’t too pleased about it. “And what if I missed _your_ ass, Spike? Do I get to play?”

He started struggling again, jerking and twisting under the other vampire until the hardness between those powerful thighs caught his attention and he began blurting his argument against what Angel had in mind as he drew closer. “Hold on now, Peaches. I’m yesterday’s news. You’ve got a new, front-page boy, all broken in and waiting for you to…”

Lips met, Angel’s crushing Spike’s so that he would 1) shut up and 2) _shut up_. Only a few seconds of hesitation passed before they were both frantic with it, tugging at clothes, clawing at newly exposed skin, grunts and whimpers and high pitched whines that gave away the fact that they weren’t actually human. And then there was nothing but pale flesh, fast becoming slick and stained with blood, because somewhere in this they’d both changed faces. That same blood Angel used to wet his cock before driving inside Spike, groaning as the blond hollered.

Angel froze, a tiny scowl forming as his fangs and ridges receded. “You okay?” he asked.

Spike had to make a real effort to bring his eyes up from the back of his head where they had just rolled in blissful pain, so that he could glare at his sire with yellow eyes that faded to fiery blue. “Don’t you dare try to treat me like some fragile bint.”

The frown melted away rapidly and Angel let his fingers flutter along Spike’s cock, teasing touches that had the blond thrusting his hips. “But you’re pretty as a girl,” he crooned softly, knowing how that sort of comment always enraged the blond.

“Fuck you, Angelus.” This time Spike’s half-hooded glare was not quite as believable.

Angel only grinned wider. “Silly William. You got it a little backwards.” He pulled out and shoved in deeper until he was flush with Spike’s bottom, rolling his hips so that his cock dragged over that spot inside that made the younger vampire writhe sweetly, desperately.

“Hell…Angel,” he panted, clasping his hand behind his sire neck to pull him down for a kiss, his tongue tracing the lines of Angel’s parted lips before delving in. 

All this wasn’t part of the plan. Not that improvisation wasn’t appealing, and going with the flow certainly had its uses, but he didn’t come here for sex with Spike. As amazing as he felt now – and as blissed-out as he knew he was going to feel shortly – somewhere in the back of Angel’s mind he knew this for what it was… a very bad idea. Getting too close to Spike always had been, but right now, with that eternal tightness squeezing his cock like there was no tomorrow, Angel didn’t actually care if there was.

 

~~~*~~~

 

Satisfied that Spike was now well aware of his place – Angel was particularly fond of the “under him” option – Angel ordered Lawson to return with Shelby so that he could show them how to use the equipment for sweeping the place for electronic and magical bugs. Actually, he handed this duty over to Spike, but waited until he was sure everyone understood that these both needed to happen at least once a day and upon returning every time they all left the house.

It wasn’t until he was back in his car, reaching it only moments before the sun peeked out over the Hollywood hills, that he turned his company cell phone on and tossed it in the passenger seat. After half a minute it started to buzz so he picked up and read the alert message. 

He had seven missed calls.

He listened to the first one, which was Fred in a panic telling him to call back immediately, and didn’t bother with the rest. Pressing her speed dial number – Harmony had her uses – Angel called back right away, worried about what could have happened to get her so flustered and upset. Normally, Fred was pretty calm, that slight crazy that had lingered around her after returning from Pylea completely gone as well as her Texan accent on most days. But in her message, she sounded a little off and pretty damned southern.

Two rings in, she answered. “Angel, my God, is that you?”

“Yeah, Fred. What’s wrong?”

“I left you a bunch of messages and so did Harmony. Didn’t you get them? I can’t reach Spike and Lorne and Gunn were gone…” her voice trailed off, frustration from the previous night’s events trying to creep back in. “Where were you?”

“I just listened to your first one and called. Sorry. Tell me what happened.”

“It was Wesley…”

“Wes? Is he okay?” Angel pressed down on the accelerator, dipping and dodging through the early morning traffic as best he could.

Fred sighed. “Yes, now he is. But it was touch and go for a while.”

Angel gripped the wheel tightly. “What was touch and go?” he barked, then took a deep calming breath. “Sorry. Please, Fred. Just…Tell me what happened, okay?” As he listened, he raced to get back to the place where his friends were all unwilling denizens of evil and prayed that he could get them all out of this mess of his making in one piece.

 

~~~*~~~

 

Excited about the new gadgets, Shelby insisted on performing an electronic sweep of the place even though Spike thought it wasn’t needed. They’d all been there all night and no one was getting inside without his knowledge. That fact Angel had crept in on them didn’t enter the picture at all.

Rummaging through kitchen cabinets, Spike hoped to find some human snacks to fill his empty stomach since he had stupidly forgotten to bring blood. Hungrier than normal, he fingered the holes in his neck where Angel had bitten and drained him just a little more than was pleasant. His bottom was also a very sore subject and he needed sustenance to heal properly. Draining a human was starting to appeal again. Lawson came up behind him and interrupted that thought before his soul had the chance to slap him straight.

“Why didn’t you tell me that the Chief was joining us?” 

Spike shrugged and looked through the last of the lower cabinets, debating what to tell him, before standing and turning around. They gazed at each other for a long few seconds and then Spike sighed. “I wanted you to believe we were really on our own. Because the rest of them have to believe it.”

“The rest of who?” Sam frowned, eyeing the mark on Spike’s neck. He was hungry too and Spike tasted really _good_.

“Everyone…Wes, Fred, Gunn. All the bloody firm actually.”

Confused, Sam shook his head and settled in a wrought iron chair at the table. “What the heck is this about, Spike?”

“Not supposed to tell you and it’s probably better for you if you don’t know anyway.”

“Why?” he asked, clearly becoming petulant.

“Peaches’ll have my naughty bits on a soddin’ platter if his precious plan goes awry, that’s why.”

Sam glanced at the blond slyly, a barely-there smile on lips that Spike suddenly wanted wrapped around a certain naughty bit. “Since when do you care what the Chief says?” 

He reached out and tugged Spike to him by the belt on his jeans, pleased when the older demon leaned down for a hungry kiss. They stayed that way for a while, Spike taking and Sam allowing it until the blond pulled away to lift his leg over Sam and settled on the other man’s lap. Quickly, he found Sam’s mouth again and spoke against his full lips. “I suppose I can be persuaded to talk.”

Laughing, Sam did his very cliche German soldier impression. “Ve haf vaz uv makink you talk.” And proceeded to convince Spike to confess everything he knew.


	9. I Remember When

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New chapter!

It was conspicuously quiet in medical as Angel entered the small lobby. He was accustomed to that by now and secretly got a small thrill out of the fear he smelled on the staff. At the nurses’ station, a small Kgar demon glanced up at him nervously.

“Mr. Angel sir, I…can I help you?”

“Uh yeah,” he drawled lazily and glanced at her name tag as he leaned on the counter. “Luzlen. Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. Where is he?” He stared intently as she turned a nice shade of purple and wasn’t sure why he was putting her through this act at all. Following his nose was a foolproof way of finding Wesley, but his demon was up and needed sorting out. Killing preferably, but since Kgar’s were mostly peaceful he wasn’t justified in twisting off her head. Fred would definitely squawk about it.

Speaking of…

“Angel, thank goodness you’re here,” Fred called while hanging onto a door jam. She motioned for him to come on and he left the delightfully frightened Luzlen with an apologetic smile, thinking that this was what happened when his blood was around. He got weird. 

Weirder.

“Sorry Fred. I got here as soon as I could. How is he?” He stepped in the room to see Wesley sitting up on the bed, an IV going into his arm and something attached to his finger. Overall, he appeared okay, a little frazzled and pale, but okay.

“ _He_ is fine,” Wesley answered, pulling at his gown in ridiculous attempt to appear dignified. Somehow a pale blue tie-back cotton mini just didn’t make Gentlemen’s Quarterly. “Hello Angel.”

“Wes. Are you okay, really?”

“He keeps saying that he is, but the doctor wants to keep him overnight.”

“Just as a precautionary measure. I feel much better now. See.” He smiled tightly as he moved and stretched some, his muscles still tense and protesting the challenge.

Angel wasn’t convinced. He had seen false bravado enough to recognize it here. “Well, you’re staying anyway…” Putting his hand up, he halted Wesley’s pout. “Just to be safe. I won’t risk you.” _Not again._

He pulled up a chair and peered up at Fred while he settled into the squeaky vinyl. “You look exhausted. Why don’t you take a break? Go home and get some sleep, Fred.”

She was tired, and hungry, but felt this odd sense of apprehension about leaving Wesley with Angel. Of course that was super silly, Angel would never hurt any of them, so she shook it off and glanced to Wesley. “Will you be okay?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Fred. Angel’s here. Nothing will happen to me.”

Nodding, she smiled and leaned over to give him a small kiss. Turning a pretty pink when she saw her boss staring, she frowned, all business. “You take care of him.”

Angel grinned, pleased that these two were finding a little happiness in this shipwreck of a life he had forced them into. “Go. I’ll call if anything happens…which it won’t because he’s fine.” She smiled back and marched out, her hair long and bouncy, and his grin faded as he recalled the last time Wesley had been laid up in a hospital bed.

Weak from blood loss, throat bandaged and eyes pleading as Angel tried to kill him.

 

~~~*~~~

 

Tiny rays of sunlight bled through the shutters, dust motes floating languidly in their trails. Not close yet, but in a few hours the little stingers would travel across the room and burn him unpleasantly. This room faced west. 

With a sigh, Sam slipped his arm from under Shelby, mindful of Spike sleeping at his back, and crept from the bed. First things first, he searched for the remote that Shelby had shown him earlier, and after finding it under the settee, he pushed the button to close the drapes. Laughing to himself as he skulked from the bedroom, he shook his head as he realized it took him longer to find the damned controller that it would have taken him to actually close the curtains.

The rest of the house was darkened by the shutters also, but none of the draperies had been drawn shut either so he went around making sure their new lair was sun-proof and safe for good little vampires. That completed, he was contemplating watching television until he got sleepy again when a strong pair of arms encircled him.

“Come back to bed,” Spike whispered hoarsely in his ear. The erection pressing into the crack of his ass thrilled Sam, a zing shooting up his spine. And he felt like his blood was racing…impossible as that was…a remembered thundering in his ears as his own dick filled.

“Not really sleepy,” he panted quietly and leaned into the blond. _Jesus_ , he thought. Anytime Spike touched him like this he felt like he was a fledge all over again and they were back in Nova Scotia. Was this how Spike felt with Angel, or was it impossibly better?

He was trembling. A smile into his neck brought him back and Spike replied softly, “Don’t have to sleep.”

Sam turned around, pleased that Spike didn’t step away, and kissed him, deep and long and slow before pulling away. “Don’t need a bed.” Sam felt…good. More than, and he hadn’t had a lot of good in his existence for a very long time. Sam turned and let his hand trail down Spike’s arm, clutching his hand with his own as he led him to the sofa. 

“Plus, I don’t want to wake up your newest.” More to the truth, he wasn’t gung ho about sharing with Shelby but Spike didn’t need to know that.

Spike was grinning at him when he turned back. “That the only reason?” he asked, pushing Sam to sit down. He stood in front of him, his erection inches from the younger vampire’s mouth.

Glancing up, he clamped a strong hand around Spike’s cock, stroking softly, and smiled when the blonde groaned. “Well, I’m not exactly adverse to a little alone time with this,” he replied and squeezed tight.

A cell phone rang in the bedroom. Spike swore. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he growled and stomped off to answer it, leaving Sam to stare at his empty hand.

A sleepy Shelby had the phone in her hand, reaching out to give it to him as he approached the bed. He snatched it and she flopped back in the bed, hoping he’d take it and leave the room.

He sat down at the foot of the bed, shoulders rolled into a slump. “What!”

“It’s me.” 

Spike rolled his eyes. “I know that, braintrust. No one else has the number. What do you want?” 

“Wesley got hurt while testing what was going to be plan A. We’re going with plan B. Tonight. So get your ass in motion.”

Straightening up and thinking of the massacre ahead, the blonde smiled. “Oh, Da. You give the best prezzies.”


End file.
